


One Last Game

by inkedintoincognito



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Bill-style violence, Gen, Mentions of Suicide
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-30
Updated: 2016-10-01
Packaged: 2018-03-09 15:56:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 19
Words: 23,125
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3255749
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inkedintoincognito/pseuds/inkedintoincognito
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I’d play a game, a twisted and complicated game, with Pine Tree. I'd gain a few more mental snaps of his looks of despair and desperation, and then go on my merry way, Gravity Falls burning in the back.<br/>And the best part was that it would really only take a month or so.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

I’m powerful.

Nah, I won’t get into how powerful I really am- I tried to explain it to someone once. He didn’t make it through- there was a literal head explosion. Surprising, (or it would have been if I hadn’t known that was going to happen) and extremely funny. Makes me laugh to this day.

I’m also brilliant.

That probably goes with being a being of pure energy- and, thus, near complete omnipotence- but I like to think it’s ‘cause I’m a natural-born thinker. A natural-born people person. A natural-born genius. Well, a natural ‘made the beginning of reality’ thinker. You know how it is.

Well, actually, you don’t. But I do, since I’m important and you’re not, it doesn’t matter.

I’m unable to lose.

It may look like I lose. But that’s the point. I have to make it look that way- near omnipotence, remember? I stage things. I’m a great actor. Never broke a role until the script called for it.

I also wrote the script, in case you didn’t get that.

Basically, I’m perfect. I mean, pure and absolute perfection. No flaws, no mistakes, nothing. Perfect in every perception, perfect in every reality, perfect in all plans and situations. I’m just plain perfect. Please, no autograph requests. Photos, you can take. I am pretty handsome, aren’t I?

But I go on about me. And there’s another aspect to this story. Another perfect half. But perfect in a different way- perfect for me. Kid’s as flawed as you can get without me around. Dipper Pines has a few good qualities, but I make everything he does absolutely amazing.

Without me, he’s a smart kid, that Pine Tree.

Smart, but not brilliant. Nothing that’s gonna get him anywhere, and nothing that’s gonna help him actually solve anything. Not smart enough for me to worry about… but, still, he’s smarter than a lot of people in that town. He’s figured out a lot. Of course, he’s really only solved previously solved clues, and followed the writings of some other person who’s already figured a lot out, ( _that_ guy was someone I had to worry about) but he did find that one weakness of that one species. I think.

But, overall, he’s really only solved things that were already solved.

Now, like always, there are some exceptions- when I come in to play, he solves unknown things. Actual, important things.

I do have to be careful with how much information I slip to that kid.

I have a lot going on. You understand- or, I no. You have one hundredth of one thousandth of one millionth of one half of one thought compared to mine. I have all the secrets of the universe running through my mind. Things slip sometimes. The ears that hear these things usually have minds that unravel shortly afterwards. It happens.

Back to the kid, though.

I like his perseverance. Give him a riddle, a puzzle, something to _solve_ , and he’ll walk to the ends of the earth to figure it out. Like I said, he rarely figures it out, but, boy, will that kid try.

That’s why he’s so perfect.

I need someone moldable. (Oh, how I love this particular hologram of a universe- dropping the perfect tool right in my back yard!) I need a clay-person. I need someone convinced they are right, someone with weak morals, someone who’ll fight to find what they want to find.

That’s it, though. Nothing else. Other qualities, in fact, could be dangerous. Creativity, like that other half of his, like that Shooting Star has, is dangerous. Imagination is dangerous. They allow people to _see-_ something that I do not like, and something that I cannot allow. I need him blind, tunnel vision-ed down to one thing, unable to see outcomes other than the one he desires. Or, at the very least, unable to see anything other than the danger he has instilled on those around him, on the line that he has forced his greatest tangible weakness- his sister- to tread.

And other than his brains, he’s nothing special. Just a boy. And so his perfection grows.

Oh, how I love this little boy, his mind with its easy doorways and readability.

I love how useful this kid’s gonna be to me.

To tell you the truth, my little game doesn’t even have to happen. But what can I say? It was fun messing with the kid before- taking his body and all that. I replay the look he had on his face when he realized what was happening whenever I need a good laugh. It was too fun to pass up the chance of playing another game or two with him before I destroyed that town, it’s people, and those journals. So I decided to do just that. Before I ruined every and anything that ever had anything to do with Gravity Falls, before I annihilated those journals that caused me more anger than anything had in quite some time, before I killed the man- and his niece and nephew- that were putting those journals back together… I’d play a game, a twisty, unnecessarily long and complicated game, with that nephew, gain a few more mental snaps of his looks of despair and desperation, and then go on my merry way, Gravity Falls burning in the back.

And the best part was that it would really only take a month or so. Less, if he went insane faster than I wanted him to. But that’s okay. The mere act of him slipping down the same slope that journal writer did will satisfy me, provided I don’t miss out on any of the steps down or the injuries he gets.

Oh, the anticipation is growing. It’s been quite some time since I’ve had some toys to play with- some toys that were actually semi-intelligent.

If I had hands right now, I’d be rubbing them together in glee. Clichéd, but, hey. Who cares if an all-powerful being of pure energy takes one from the movies now and then?

Certainly not you, right?

So. Here we go.


	2. Chapter 2

If you squinted, had bad vision, and looked from the side, the Pines twins could almost be considered cute.

Unfortunately, I have perfect vision and squinting messes up my depth perception, so I was forced to see the kid in all his sweaty glory, mouthing the words of that journal he was always hunched over. I repressed a shutter. Or, rather, the idea of a shutter. Being this perfect has its downsides. But, hey, the fact that I was about to have as much fun as I’ve ever had would make up for it.

I made my way through the window, sticking to the walls, gliding up to the ceiling.  The kid was on his bed, and from here all I could see was the top of his hat and his back; the book was protected by his hunched form.

Normally, I’d make a grand entrance, (you remember the whole moon thing? Blue bricks and single eye forming together once they appeared out of thin air? That wasn’t even my best entrance.) but today I’d just settle for scaring the boy. There would be plenty of times for big entrances.

Besides, my entrances tend to put people off. They get wary. I can’t have that happening this time. So-

“Pine Tree!” Here he let out a shout, jerking so he was sitting up straight. “Long time, no see!”

His head was swiveling, neck twisting back and fourth so quickly I was afraid it would break.

“Bill?” He tried to hide it, but I could still hear a slight twinge of fear, a poor attempt at burying it under a false tone of confidence.

Hmm. On one side, I loved fear. On the other…

“The one and only! Here just for you!”

He stopped looking around and went completely still. I should also inform you that he began to sweat even more.

And he had yet, I noticed with some exasperation, to look up.

“What-“

“Up here, kid.”

His head jerked back, faster than I would have thought, and finally met my eye. Quickly, he leapt off his bed, whirling around to face me. Smart kid took the journal with him. Not that I cared, because I’d get it anyway, but still. Smart.

He was standing, and he was backing away, and I realized that this whole height difference was probably freaking him out. As much as it killed me to do, I came down to his level, staying just above his bed.

“So, what’s up? How’ve you been? Find anything else lately? Discover any more monsters?”

He stayed silent, clutching the journal to his chest. He was glaring- but, again, under the poor attempt of anger I saw fear flickering in his eyes.

Okay. I’d give myself, I decided, a minute or so to enjoy it.

I floated closer to him, and he took a step back. “Dipper, com’on. It’s just me! Your pal Bill!” I tipped my hat at him and gave a bow, tilting the room just a little this time so he wouldn’t slid too much. He was prepared anyway, though, his feet planting the moment he saw me reach for my hat. I sighed, wanting to try again but knowing now wasn’t the best time.

“What’s wrong, Pine Tree? Cat got your tongue? You haven’t said more than one word to me! Don’t tell me you’re still upset about that whole possession thing- the scars look kind of cool!”

He stiffened, his jaw clenching. Ah, how I’d love to relish some more in the terror that was now rolling off of him in waves… but my minute was up. Time to get him to talk.

“How’s that sister of yours doing?”

An immediate change. Yeah, terror still there- but now, so was actual anger. “Bill, what are you doing here?”

Okay. Time to get his trust. “Thought I’d catch up on some reading. Heard you had some good books.” Before he could start whining about the journal, I yanked a bunch of books from his shelf, circling them around me. “I’ve always been a fan of nonfiction. It’s pretty fun to see what you guys think is right.”

“Stop-“

“This one looks pretty good,” I said, pulling a book at random. “Love your wars. Love ‘em!”

“Bill-“

“Dipper! Is this… is this a fiction book?”

“Get-“

“ _Science_ fiction! Woah, you really are a nerd!”

“STOP!”

I let the books fall to the floor and looked at him. I could hear his heart hammering.

“What’s wrong, kid?”

“I don’t want you here. Get out of here!”

I lowered myself some more, so that I was just below his chin.

“I’m not going to do anything to hurt you, Dipper.” He opened his mouth, but I cut him off. “Or your sister.”

Still, he didn’t hesitate. “I don’t care. Leave.”

“Aw, come now, Dipper, we’re friends!”

“No, we’re not.”

“That hurts me, Dip. Gotta say, it really hurts me.”

“Good.”

I resisted the urge to kill him.

“Listen, Pine Tree, I know what you’re doing. About that new monster. The what’s-it-called, the tree thing.”

“I’m not looking into a tree thing.”

“Aw, you got me.”

“Get out.”

“Now, let me speak. So you’re not looking at the tree thing- which, by the way, I really think you should start doing-“ Get his nerves up about something else, look out the window at the tree, narrowed eye, and see if he’ll look too- yes! “-and start getting serious about this whole town.”

His jaw clicked and his eyes flew back to mine, his back straightening. “I am serious!”

There we go.

“Are you, Dipper? Because it seems to me like you aren’t getting serious.” He opened his mouth, and, again, I cut him off. “Though, maybe… maybe that’s just because you cannot possibly find any information to get serious about?”

“I _can_ find information-“

“Oh, oh, it’s no fault of yours, Pine Tree. There’re three journals. You have one! You can’t possibly succeed with only one third of the puzzle, now, can you?”

His eyes narrowed, but he said nothing. I did my best not to dance a jig- this was going so, so perfectly now.

“After all, you’re at a disadvantage!”

I circled around him, slowly, and he spun around. I was against the wall, now; he was open.

“It’s not fair! You’re a pretty smart kid- you should get the resources you need, don’t you think?”

He said nothing.

“Well?”

“I can figure it out on my own.”

“No, you can’t. Listen, Dipper, you’ll be able to solve all of this. _If_ I help you.”

“Well, why don’t you just tell me the answers? If you know them.”

I laughed, he flinched. I slapped myself. Mentally.

“Kid, listen: I like to have fun. And I’m bored! I want to see someone _do_ something!”

“Like die?”

“What? No!” I widened my eye, threw my hands up for good measure. “If you die, I’m stuck with you! Better you’re here, where I can at least avoid you when you get annoying.”

He frowned.

“You’re manipulative. You’re sneaky.”

“I’ll lay everything out there for you. Scout’s honor.”

“What are you even going to do?”

“Give you tips. Hints. Maybe some supernatural powers if you want. Help you solve the mysteries to this town.”

“And you get…?”

“Entertainment! It’s boring here on the dreamscape. Dull. Black and white and gray. I need to gat away for a bit!”

“So why help me? Why not terrorize someone somewhere else?”

I shook what would be my head, but, since my whole body shook, the kid probably took it as a small dance. Either way works. “Nah. I told you, Dip- or maybe I forgot to, in which case I’m telling you now- I’m bored with death, bored with pain.”

“You’re bored with death and pain?”

“Death is only funny so many times.”

I approached him, slowly. He didn’t back away. “And, kid, get this through your big head: masochism does not go hand and hand with sadism.”

He took a step back, then. I backed off, gliding back into the corner.

“Well? Whaddya say?”

“What’s the price?”

I held myself from closing my eye. “What? What do you mean?”

“I mean, what’s the price? What are you taking? And-“ He added, just before I could respond, “What’s the catch to this price?”

Ah, here we go. Cross my fingers, some information I could use is coming up.

I forced what is my face into something he’d recognize as a smile. “First of all: no catch. All I want is something tiny- on top of the entertainment I’ll get from this.”

“Define teeny.”

“I said tiny, kid- two different words. This is even tinier than teeny, you see?”

He made a noise in the back of his throat- not agreeing, not disagreeing. Oh well.

“What I want is this: I want you to tell me your deepest secret. The one so deep you haven’t even told your sister.”  
He blinked. “What?”

“You heard me.”

“I don’t have a secret like that.”  
“Dipper’s a liar!” I sang, lowering myself further to the ground. This was unsettling, being so low.

“Besides, even if I did, why don’t you know it already? You knew all that other stuff- my name and the cr- the thing with Wendy.”

Even in this situation, the kid managed to blush.

“Dipper, listen. I know a lot. But there are certain things that every person has that I cannot access without going through their mind personally. And, yes, I could do that to you, but I’m showing you that you can trust me. I’m not going to invade your brain. I’m leaving it up to you to tell me.”

“What else don’t you know?”

“Not the point.”

“What else don’t you know?”

I sighed again, and held up a hand. “One. Deepest secret.” One finger down. “Two. Deepest fear. That one’s annoying.” Another finger down. “And three: deepest wish. That’s the least exciting of the three.”

He bit his lip, his fingers tightening on the journal, his eyes focusing on something just in front of his face. It was like that for a minute- a very long, very boring minute. But I had to give him time to think.

Finally, he spoke.

“You’ll-“

“Be honest? Yeah.”

“And you won’t-“ He stopped, his teeth snapping together with an audible click. “What am I doing? You’re Bill! Bill!”

“Indeed I am.”

“No. No. I can’t trust you! Leave me alone, Bill. Leave Mabel alone, leave anyone I know alone.”

“Com’on, Pine Tree, don’t let the past-“

“Stop!”

“All I’m asking is one small secret, and you’ll get all the answers you could possibly want!”

“I don’t-“

“One sentence for thousands and thousands of facts, thousands and thousands of answers. Hundreds of years of abnormalities, all accessible by _you.”_  
He paused, and then shook his head. “No.”

But he had paused.

I smiled to myself.

“Suit yourself, Dipper,” I said, rising back up.

“I am!” He called, almost taking a step in my direction.

I sighed dramatically, shrugging my shoulders. “Kid, you’re a fool to pass up this chance, but I won’t hold it against you. If you change your mind, just call!”

Before he could respond, I was gone.

That had worked out so very nicely.


	3. Chapter 3

I watched Dipper for a few days after. Not to learn more about him, because, let’s face it, I already knew everything that I could know about the kid. I just wanted, really, to watch him mull over my offer.

I have to say I was surprised how little thought he openly gave my offer- how little he whispered about it to himself. Heck, even how there was not a single step taken in honor of this deal on the worn down part of the rug from where he paced so often.

Oh, I knew he wouldn’t be _too_ open about it. I figured, though, that he’d at least spend some time when he was alone mulling it over. Not in a serious way- but in one of those ways where he wouldn’t realize he was thinking about it until his brain caught up to his mind. I’d see him, narrowing his eyes at some wall for a few minutes, hand absently thumbing the pages of that infernal journal, and I’d _know_ he was thinking about it. But then he’d blink, and shake his head, looking angry as he got up and went to do some chore. The thinking aspect never lasted more than five, ten minutes.

It was nothing- nothing at all like I expected. Twenty minutes total of thought spent on my offer? I was almost insulted.

I wasn’t angry. I wasn’t angry.

I was frustrated.

I thought it had gone so well.

It _had_ gone well. So why was he not thinking about this? He was a curious kid. He was a gullible kid. He was a scared kid. This was perfect for him. Absolutely perfect.

I didn’t think I had terrified him enough last time to effect him this much. But maybe I underestimated… a little disappointing, his hesitance, as he walked away with only two forks in the arm, really. Maybe a few bruises from that fall down the stairs. But he also walked away with better clothing.

And, yeah, mental scarring and some hyper-exhaustion for several days, but those he could also bring on himself.

He was weaker than I thought.

Things were looking bleaker than before. Maybe this would take more work than I thought.

I was in the middle of planning something that would scare him into this, (a demon attacking his sister?) when it hit me.

This was a mind observation.

Dipper wouldn’t confide in his sister, or talk about it aloud to himself, or mutter even about it in his sleep. So I’d watch the kid, wait for him to fall asleep, and go into that big head of his and poke around. I had to be careful not to go too deep- finding out his deepest secret and the like. People feel that kind of thing, defenses pop up. And, as easy as it is to get around those pathetic walls, I didn’t need Dipper thinking that I’d gone back on my agreement.

I was mildly irritated that I had to do this, and that it took me so long to realize I had to do this, but I was excited about the prospect of going into the kid’s mind again. I’ll give him another thing: he’s got an interesting mind. Though, again, I’m partial towards self destruction, and if he keeps worrying like he does, he’ll be mush in no time.

Luckily, by the time I thought about this, it was almost one in the morning. Usually the boy fell asleep at about this time: lights on, journal open. It drove his sister crazy, which I loved, but tonight he was alone- she was off with those two girls she hung out with, guzzling down sugars and making popsicle stick houses.

He was still up, but he’d be nodding off soon- already, his head was bobbing down slowly and up sharply. I went up above the roof and came back down through the shingles, back where I was when I spoke to him a few days ago, backed close against the ceiling.

I only had to wait a few minutes before he fell forward for the last time, breathing deepening.

I could go in, see what he was thinking subconsciously, and try to push it towards the surface more so I could influence it even more after that.

Here we go.

Letting myself go into free fall, I dropped down, and, with a flash, fell into his mind.


	4. Chapter 4

His mind was pretty cluttered- more cluttered than the average person, but not the most cluttered I’ve seen.

I made my way through the halls, zipping past useless doors filled with baseball games and embarrassing moments and English classes and sibling hugs. Pointless, worthless, useless. The number of doors that held these memories was pathetic- the second level, where his knowledge about Gravity Falls was stored, was much, much smaller.

I had to go down several flights of stairs- and avoid a weird amount of flying marbles- before I found the door that led to the room filled with Dippers.

A lot of people have these rooms. Only the stupid lack them- those who just go without thinking, those with no morals, those who lack a sense of other people around them.

Dipper, I knew, had more versions of himself walking around this room than anyone I’ve visited in the past hundred years. About thirty, if I am still up to date with my numbers, which is extraordinary. Most only have about twelve or so.

I paused outside the door, glancing at the lock on the knob- also unusual- before gliding through it.

Thank goodness people don’t sweat in their minds.

There were even more Pine Trees in here than before- a whole forest of them, all talking to each other, gesturing wildly with their hands, pointing into the air and apologizing when they whacked each other accidentally.

They were creepily polite.

A sea of blue hats and brown vests, strangely large heads bobbing up and down in time to arguments about life and death and good and evil and whether or not science fiction was a valid form of literature. All fighting- Pine Tree’s inner battles, his thousands of moral and conscience-related decisions and arguments, his constant attempt at finding the better solution.

A few of the Dippers were laughing, a few were shouting, and one was crying, but they were in complete control of their anger and sorrow, not too noisy or out of control.

I scanned the crowd, listening in on different conversations, trying to find the one that I needed. It didn’t take long- there, in the back corner, three Dippers were all talking quietly among themselves, hushed voices only a little quieter than the rest of those speaking.

I glided over, sticking to the walls. I made sure they couldn’t see me, but I had to make sure that nothing went awry here.

When I reached them, I snuck into the center of their little triangle (such a lovely shape,) and sat back. Knowing Dipper, this conversation would take a while. Hopefully, they would come to some sort of conclusion before- well, before I got too bored.

“-not like he’ll actually follow through!” the Dipper to my left said. I resisted the urge to take his teeth.

“But think! All that information- all of it! Just for one secret!” This Dipper was to my right. He was one of the angry ones from eairler. This is the Dipper I liked.

“But-“ The third Dipper. The one behind me. I turned. Before he could continue, the angry one interrupted.

“Dipper, seriously, you need to shut up about this thing. We’re over that whole possession thing- we made a mistake once. But we’re smarter now! We know how sneaky he is… we can outsmart him!” Arrogant, forward, selfish… Dipper needed to be more like this Dipper.

“But he almost killed us!” Ah, frightened, cowardly Dipper speaks. “He was _inside_ of us, guys! He could have hurt Mabel, Grunkle Stan, Soos… And, don’t forget, something happened to our mind, too. You can’t tell me you didn’t notice. Something was off. It was sticky, it was fuzzy. We couldn’t think straight for a week. That’s not good- he’s smart, he could destroy us.”

He made me sick.

“We were awake for almost two days straight. We hurt our own mind.”

There we go.

“Not for a week, we didn’t. What good is information if you can’t think about it? Can’t process it?”

About as good as you are, I think.

“About as good as being to afraid to go and get the information!”

Ah, this version of this kid is fantastic.

“Guy, guys!” The first Dipper shouted, not too loud, though. Wouldn’t want to disturb the other Dippers around here. “Listen, it doesn’t matter if you’re scared-“

“Ha!”

“-or if you’re all for it. The point is, he’s not going to go through with it. Yeah, we’ll give up our biggest secret, but it’s not like he’s actually going to give anything in return.”

“No- he’ll give us what he promised. He did last time.”

“He hurt us more than anything last time! We lost the computer!”

“But we got a name.”  
“Wow, a name. Those aren’t common!” That was the first Dipper. This surprised me- he was the one that needed convinced, then. A wishy-washy Dipper. The realest of the three.

“He’ll hurt us again. Or he’ll hurt Mabel.”

“But we could find the information to get rid of him forever!”

“You idiot, you really think he’ll give us that information?” First Dipper snapped at the angry Dipper.

Mmm. First Dipper’s leaning more towards coward Dipper. This is not good.

Scared Dipper spoke up. “He’s probably the smartest thing in the universe! He’s not going to make that mistake.”

The first Dipper remained silent now, looking back and fourth between the two.

"But he's giving us all the information we want. We can make him slip up."

"Yeah, and Wendy will fall madly in love with us tonight."

"Hey, man, let's not loose hope."

"You're right. Sorry."

"It's okay. We all have those moments."

"But still. We shouldn't agree to this."

"Yes. Yes, we should. We need to accept this thing."

“No. You're still doing it. You’re still forgetting about the fact that we lost our body to a masochist!”

“So? We survived!”

“Yeah, because we already weren’t taking care of ourself! This isn’t a game-“

“I know that!”

“-this isn’t about getting information! For all we know, the secret is what Bill needs to occupy our body forever, or to find Mabel’s secret, or whatever. He could destroy us with this.”

“So?”

The scared Dipper narrowed his eyes at the angry Dipper, who, as far as I could tell, was about as perfect as this boy could get. “’So’? Yeah, so what, we die? No big deal, it’s just death.”

“Exactly. Stop being a coward-“

“Stop being such a freak!”

“-and get over it.”

“I can’t!”

“Stop shouting, guys.” The first Dipper broke his silence. "Listen. I don't think he's going to hurt us. Or kill us either."

Fool. I liked where was going, though. He went on, "Though I suppose that one should have come first, since-"

"Just get on with it."

"Okay, okay. Jeez. The point I'm trying to make is: Bill's getting something out of this. We don't know what it is, not really, but we know he's getting something out of this."

"And it's going to be our injuries. Or Mabel's. Or Stan's."

"I don't know. Why offer a deal if he could just maim?"

"Why ask for a puppet when he meant us?"

"Because he didn't realize how strong we were!"

"No! We weren't strong. We were weak. That's the only reason he left!"

"We also had- and have- Mabel."

"No. We're not bringing her into this."

"She should know. She's noticed something is wrong."

"Oh, has she? What has she noticed? New fear? Right as she noticed the imaginary chicken pox, right?"

"Yes! She's not an idiot- we jump at every door slam! I'm pretty sure we mutter in our sleep, too."

"How would you even know that?"

"Because we've woken up three times in the past week with her blankets and stuffed animals."

"She's always done that."

"But she's never been with them."

They paused, sighing and frowning and rubbing the bridges of their noses.

They need to decide, already. And they needed to decide in my favor. But how...?

Ah. Another obvious solution.

"Okay. Let's go over the facts-"

I drifted away, floating towards some other group of Dippers in a corner. These guys were arguing about something so unimportant I didn't even bother to take notice.

I went as far into the corner as I could, standing behind some Dipper so no one would see me. I stopped hovering, dropping to the ground. And, with a snap, altered my appearance.

In less than three seconds, I was just another vested brown haired boy.

In less than three seconds, I had the opportunity to flawlessly nudge Dipper up, and then my way.


	5. Chapter 5

I took a few experimental steps, getting back into the feeling of walking. So long as I apologized for bumping into any of the Dippers I knocked into, accidentally or on purpose, I would be fine. The last time was recent enough to keep me knowledgeable about how to move.

I made my way over, gagging on an apology only four times. I was rougher and more determined than most of the Dippers here, and probably looked the most crazy, (still couldn’t get the eyes the right amount of closed,) but they didn’t take too much notice.

Finally, they were within earshot. I ignored what they were saying, resisting the urge to just shove aside the cowardly one, and took the last step.

“Guys, guys,” I said, cutting right in the middle of them. “What are we talking about here?”

Angry Dipper frowned and said, “Bill. His offer.”

“Oh. Oh, do I have opinions on this,” I said. Maybe I came off too strong- well, I know I came off too strong- because the coward Dipper narrowed his eyes.

“Do you, now?”

“You bet I do!”

I cursed. I have to stop sounding like myself. At least I didn’t have to worry about walking strangely- I was standing still, and right now all my other limbs were good. Even my arms were flat by my sides. Strange, but very restful.

“And what would that opinion be?” the first Dipper asked. “We’re kind of split, fifty fifty.”

“How can you be split fifty fifty if there are three of you?” There. Gotta play the skeptic. Gotta play the skeptic.  
“I’m leaning both ways.”

Liar, liar. He wanted to not go through with it. But I couldn’t let him know that I knew that.

“Ah, I got’cha.”

“So? Are you for or against?”

I put my hand on my chin and pursed my lips, pretending to think.  “I think it’d be best to go for it,” I said. “We won’t ever get anything done if we act like this.”

“Like what? Cautious?” Coward Dipper turned so he was facing me head on. I frowned at him, pointing at the ground.

“Yes! We have to go out on a limb. Do you think the great explorers stayed inside reading?”

“Yes.”

“No. They didn’t.”

“Well, we don’t even like those explorers that much!”

“Don’t make us lie to ourself, now,” I said. “They went out and explored. We have to do the same. And, with Bill’s help-“ He cut me off. I wanted to shake him as hard as I could. Which, while it wouldn’t have been too hard in this body, but once I got back to my own…

“Bill won’t help us! He’ll trick us. Again!”

“Okay. You’re forgetting that last time we survived.” First Dipper seemed to be coming towards my side. Already? This was a nice surprise.

“Barely! And we have scars now!” Oh, boo hoo.

“And?”

“And… just, and I’m scared. _We_ should be scared. I can’t-“ he cut off, his eyes on my shoes. “I don’t want us to do that again. Think of feeling all that pain again. And not being able to control anything? We didn’t exist, guys! We actually didn’t exist! What if our ghost-think like state was temporary? And if we didn’t get our body back in time, we would just.. vanish? What if we fall out of existence permanently?” He really, really sickened me. Oh, no! Non-existence! So horrible!

“That won’t happen,” angry Dipper said. “It won’t.”

“What if Bill is in our body forever and he’s with Mabel? He could- I don’t even want to think about what he would do.”

“ _That won’t happen!_ ”

“And you know that how? How?” coward Dipper snapped. “I suppose you’re all-knowing?”

“I know enough.”

“You know just as much as me!”

First Dipper sighed. “Okay, guys-“

But, since he was so wishy-washy, I couldn’t let him speak. I cut in,  looking directly at the coward, whose gaze was finally up again, “I think that maybe we should look at it without the past experience mixed in.”

“What? Why would we do that?”

“Because, that Bill guy-“ _Stop sounding like_ that Bill guy! “Er, Bill. He’s not stupid. He’s pretty smart. I think. And if he’s as smart as we think he is, then he’s not going to pull the same trick. Or, for that matter, any trick. It’s not smart to do so.”

“And, if he’s that smart, how do we know that he wouldn’t know that we know that, and then go the opposite?” I hated coward Dipper.

I countered, “Well, then, how do we know that he knows that we know-“

“Okay, we’ve gotten into the dangerous string of thought.” The first Dipper crossed his arms. “Come on, we can’t go down that road.”

“But we should. I mean, the first thing I said, about him not going to do anything, is true.” I bit my- Dipper’s?- tongue. Too strong. Way, way too strong.

“And you know that how?”

Think quick, quick, quick- “Because I’m the most intelligent Dipper here.”

“What?”

“You heard me.” Okay, I didn’t sound like Pine Tree, but I was hoping the insult would make them too mad to realize that.

“You- that doesn’t even make sense!” Coward Dipper looked like I had punched him in the gut.

“No, no, you are _not_ the most intelligent Dipper here. We’re all equal!” The first Dipper, looking equally pained, raised his voice louder than I had heard any voice in here. “You are not better than any of us!” All around us, Dippers went quiet.

“Well, _you guys_ are equal. I’m superior.” Eh. True in any situation, but I probably should have backed off.

Coward Dipper spoke up. “Don’t you remember what happened the last time one of us broke off? Mayham! Mayham! And that was in the physical world! We’re going to destroy ourselves if you keep this up-“

“Shut up, shut up! We cannot afford to think like that!” The first Dipper yelled, waving his arms. “We think like that and we actually fall!”  
“Like what? Realistically?” Coward Dipper shot back. “We’re all intelligent! We’re all smart!”

I knew I should back off. Once I shut up, all the Dippers would want to hear the full story, and all the Dippers would then get distracted and start talking about my offer: the argument was going to reach all the Dippers, and then it would leave the subconscious and go into the conscious.

But I couldn’t help myself. And, realistically, it would only take a few more minutes of arguing before they calmed down once I slipped out in the mayhem. So, it would be okay.

I leaned over, as close as I could get to the coward without him getting squirmy, and whispered, “But I’m smarter.”

Really, there is no better feeling than slipping away from a fight you started unscratched.


	6. Chapter 6

Whatever happened after I left was wonderful. They must have all been talking about it- Pine Tree was now mumbling about it to himself outside of his mind. I saw him pacing twice when his sister was out. One of those times in particular looked promising: during the second pacing session, he stopped walking three times and muttered that it would probably be worth it, he could keep me from doing whatever I had planned to do. Cute, how he thought that.

Of course, I was making a few more visits to his mind at night. Nothing big, not like the first time I went in to persuade him. No fights or anything like that- just a few tidbits, placed here and there. Maybe, _maybe_ , some fuzziness added to the memory of what he felt when he was possessed- just dampening the terror a little bit. Nothing that would arise suspicion, nothing that wasn’t moral. By my standards, of course, which may be different than his, but it’s not like that matters. I took the time to rot away a bit of his rationality, a bit of his intellect, trailing these paths with my cane and watching them fall apart, doors rusted shut, paths falling away into nothing. That, I think, was one of the more important fudgings. Genius, really, on my end of things.

Only a week or so had passed since my first physical visit- still, I thought that I should pay him another one. His mental state was right where I wanted it; I could time it for the end of one of his pacing sessions, one where he was leaning my way.

It was another two days before I was able to catch him at the right moment- I couldn’t delay anymore, both because Mabel seemed to suspect something was wrong and was beginning to try to invite him to go out with her and that pig for walks. He took her up on it only once. I, of course, followed, and I didn’t like what I saw. Not at all. She was strong, his sister. Very influential on him, able to distract him from what I needed him to think about for nearly an entire evening. Luckily, the boy was too stubborn and reclusive to accept all of her invitations, but I didn’t want another one like that happening.

The scene: Pine Tree had just declined another one of Mabel’s invitations, (she was getting more and more worried, it seemed… she was willing to give up time with those two other girls,) and he was left in their room, walking back and fourth, back and fourth. She had walked out the door, biting her lip. I guess Pine Tree was acting even more strange than usual. I wouldn’t really notice, but, if others were, I’d have to speed this up.

I was tempted to make a big entrance. Again, though, I thought a more subtle approach was best.

So I settled for simply appearing before him, waiting until he was turned away from me before making myself visible at the end of his pacing path. Step, step, step, step-

He screamed.

“Hey, kid!” I said, and floated up a bit. Still stayed below him, though.

“Bill! What the heck-“ He cut himself off, shaking his head and taking a step back. “What do you want?“ He was worrying his lip between his teeth, not making eye contact. Trying to, though- but he was looking above me. I could tell.

I didn’t like how skiddish he still was. This was a sharp change from how he acted by himself- this was a problem. If he was stronger mentally but shied away when confronted, then I’d have a harder challenge.

“Have you thought about my offer?” I asked, hovering higher. Force him to meet my eye.

“No.” He said it quickly.

Liar, liar. A sudden flash of rage sparked through me, and it took a second to squelch it down. How dare he play me for a fool. How dare he lie to me.

No, Bill. Keep it under control.

I blinked at him, widening my eye. “No? Not even a little?” I floated to the left a bit, to the door. I wouldn’t get angry. Not now, not here.

At least, I wouldn’t show my anger.

Unless it was necessary.

His eyes darted to the door. “Why would I want to make a deal with you, Bill? You’re a liar. Manipulative. It- it wouldn’t end well.”

“That’s a lot for someone to be able to spew out without having thought about it,” I said. “Listen, Pine Tree,” I inched closer to him.

Again, he took a step back when I came forward.

Stay golden, Bill.

I stopped, and closed my eye. Lower yourself, get away from the door, back up.

I did as such, pushing anger down every second.

Finally, I opened my eye. And had to keep my face from contorting into my version of a smile.

The boy’s shoulders were lower, his arms looser. The one was still tighter- probably holding the journal to his side.

“Listen, Pine Tree,” I said again. “I know things. You know I know things. There’s no use in lying to me, now, is there?”

His jaw clenched, but he remained silent.

“I’ll ask again, then: have you thought about my offer, kid?”

“Stop calling me ‘kid’.”

“Sure thing, kid.” He glared, and I laughed. “Oops, sorry, ki- Pine Tree.”

“Dipper.”

“That’s a silly name. I refuse to call you that.” Hopefully he wouldn’t call me out on any prior pronouns I said.

“Bill’s worse.” Hmm. The boy’s getting braver. Good.

I let my face twist and show my smile this time. Let him know that I could be human, in terms of their sense of humor. Ish.

“Kid-“ his eyes darkened-“We need to talk about this. Have you thought about my offer?”

He opened his mouth, but I cut in. “Of course you have!” I darted over to him, beside him, behind him, waving an arm. “And you know what, kid, you’re on the right path!”

“Bill, I don’t think-“

“But you _can_ think!”

“Huh?”

“You can think! You can learn!” Push him, push him, push him.

“No, that’s not what-“

“Com’on, Pine Tree, you can-“ Don’t stop talking, pressure pressure pressure. Dirty, but it’s worked before.

“No-“

“You know you want to learn! You know you want to discover!” Right behind him now, like all those villains in the movies he loved so much, and this realization made me back away from him some more, talking to the back of his head instead of the side.

“Yeah, but-“

“You know you want to know!” I was shouting, animated, I had to rile him up-

“Bill!”

I froze, his voice cutting through my excitement. I frowned. I shouldn’t- I couldn’t- let myself get caught up like that.

“Bill, I-“

I put out a hand, waving it around. Everything feel silent; he wasn’t breathing, I wasn’t bobbing up and down, he was still as a piece of wood and I was a rock.

“You know you want to be right, Pine Tree,” I said, quietly.

And, before he could respond, I blinked away, surprisingly satisfied with my leave off. I didn’t get a handshake today, but…

Let’s see him squirm for more than a day with an idea like that.


	7. Chapter 7

It wasn’t a day before Pine Tree called me back- it was five hours. The kid’s desperate to be right- even if I couldn’t see into his memories, it’s written all over him. It’s like his own personal scent. The desire, the need to be right- it rolls off of him.

I hadn’t been noticing it as much- preoccupation with the destruction of a family tends to distract. But I had been holding back.  
No pain, no fear inducing, no power release- it was beginning to build up. But now I could let it all go wild again. Show my true  
power, let the kid know, now that he was bound, that I could crush him in a minute. I missed the fear- it was fun manipulating it  
to get here, but it would be a pleasure to let it back into his mind.

So I was practically skipping through the Dreamscape, his voice ringing through my bow tie. A whispered, “Bill… Bill? I’ve made a decision,” echoing through the land every minute or so.

Oh, was this going to be good.

This was going to be big.

This needed to be celebrated.

It was time, finally, finally, to let loose.

I exited the Dreamscape, moving as fast as I could, turning the world around the kid black, ripping the floor from under his feet.

Let’s recreate one of his nightmares, shall we? 

His own little bottomless pit, Stan-and-Sister-and-Question Mark-less.

Loneliness.

Nothing wrong with celebrate with a little fear, now, is there?

Nah. Not at all.

His voice cut out of my bow tie, going straight to my… ears. A high-pitched shout, renewing itself not a moment after it had  
started and increasing in volume, morphing to a cry that filled the darkness.

“Kid, kid!” I shouted, dropping quickly so I could catch up with him. He continued to yell for a moment, but suddenly he cut off,  
catching my eye.

“Bill!” he shouted. “Stop this!” There was a waiver to his voice. This nightmare affected him more than I would have thought. 

“Why? We gotta make a deal,” I extended my hand, blue flames flaring up, my own voice echoing through the black- deal, deal, eal, eal,- “don’t we?”

I knew, I knew, that he wouldn’t change his mind now. At the very least because of his pride.

No more lowering myself in his presence anymore.

He clenched his teeth, twisting so he was facing me head on instead of turning his head.

“And we have to be falling to make this deal?”

I closed my eye, its ends turning down, smiling. In a way.

“Aw, you got me!”

And, with a snap, we were back in his room. I came to a halt; he thudded to the ground, letting out a muffled groan.

“So, I heard you call? A decision has been made?” I crept closer to him, hovering nearly a foot above his head. “And one that I feel  
I’ll be very happy with,” I said, sending him another one of my smiles. His lips tightened and he stood quickly, his back to the  
window, the very flattering triangular window of a very handsome dream demon, rebuilt with a bit of mind persuasion some time  
ago.

Not that they would know.

He took a breath. “Word it. Right now.”

I pulled out my cane, starting to twirl it in the hand that wasn’t flaming. “You tell me your deepest secret, and I have to give you knowledge about this town.”

“And?”

“And what, kid?”

“What’s the catch?”

“No catch. I said it, and I’ll be bound to it. You will, too, of course.” He was silent, his eyes focused on something behind me. I  
could see his brain whirling, trying to come up with a loophole I could exploit.

Finally, he met my eye.

“Well, what do you say, Pine Tree?”

He took another breath.

“Yeah,” he said. “Yeah.”

I let out a laugh, loud, manic, and the details around us grew more vibrant, my cane dropped to ground below me, disappearing.  
He let out a whoosh of air and I came closer to him, drifting closer to him than he would have liked, obvious from his flinch. But  
he wouldn’t back out now. My hand, still flaming, extended- his own hand, slow at first and then quick, just like before, grasping  
it, the familiar warmth of another foolish human making a deal with someone they thought they could outsmart.

I let out another laugh, the world around us swirling with red, one of the only colors that could come into the Dreamscape, my eye  
burning red, too, my hand wrapping around his wrist, pulling the boy closer, his face in mine, his eyes wide, terror plainly written  
across his features.

“So, tell me, Pine Tree,” I said, my voice rocketing through the air, strong, powerful, echoing- “What’s that big secret of yours?”

Man, it felt good to let my voice go. To let my power flow at its peak in front of him again.

He shouted and pulled back, his arm slipping out of my grasp, and, as he was doing this, just like I knew it would, his secret  
spilled from his mouth, the boy far, far too weak to even think about breaking the deal.

“I cheated off of Thomas at the big test at the end of the year,” he said, words tumbling over one another. “I didn’t want to do  
worse than him so I just copied one answer. But only one!” I widened my eye, looking down on him- such a boring secret, I was  
disappointed, but I had to seem like I cared deeply- as he clapped a hand over his mouth, swallowing heavily.

There was a moment of silence. I struggled to keep from laughing at how dejected he looked.

He bit his lip, lowered his hand. “I- I just didn’t want to get a lower score. Mabel said I’d do the best. So I had to.”

Stupid kid.

“Completely understandable,” I said. “I’d probably have done the same thing.

He glared at me, anger flashing through his eyes.

But I barely paid any mind. My plan was well under way. He had agreed to the first deal- he’d agree to more, as they tended to do.

“Well, Pine Tree, what’d’ya say we start in the morning? I, for one, am exhausted.”

I didn’t wait to see if he’d respond. With a blink we were out of the dreamscape, back in his human-world room. I’m not sure what he did then- I was out of there. It wasn’t the ‘exhaustion’ that was moving me forward, though- like I said, a perfect demon such  
as myself doesn’t get tired in this form. It was the need to start the rest of the plan, to plot out what to tell him, what to show  
him, where to take him.

What amount of danger could I put this kid in?

What strain could he go through?

What would he sacrifice?

Who would he loose?

Moral dilemma, self worth issues, trust problems- oh, my! 

So many potential little games inside my ultimate game. It was almost too much.

The game was rolling, now, and it was going to be so much fun.


	8. Chapter 8

There were a few things that I had to set up before we could go full swing into this. And they had to be done by the time I woke Pine Tree up- that gave me about ten hours. Plenty of time- I’d done a lot more in a lot less.

Besides, I, a being of pure energy with no weaknesses, (still one of my favorite lines,) could never mess up. These were going to be more cumbersome than anything.

But they had to be done, and, man, was the payoff going to be great.

The first thing I had to do, of course, was cast a few spells to keep Shooting Star and that old guy from getting suspicious of what was happening- they couldn’t notice how… withdrawn the kid would get. It’d also help when he came back with injuries. I knew a spell that would cause peoples’ eyes to slide over the smaller stuff- great for hiding things, really. I should have used it on that journal. But if I had I wouldn't be having fun right now, would I?

So I grabbed what was necessary- some white stones with holes, a few pinches of salt, the bones of a bird, and seeds- added some of my own magic, and tossed them into the sugar containers- crushed, of course- that the Pines family kept next to the fridge. The girl made smoothies every morning for her and her great uncle- Dipper never drank them, so the lowered ability to notice wouldn’t hinder him. And, even if he did change his mind and drink one, it definitely wouldn’t hurt me if he were to fail to notice any cuts or bruises or lies…

I added some of it to the milk. He uses milk a lot. And hopefully he would be too caught up in whatever puzzle was on the back of the cereal box to notice any strange tastes, (something I didn't have to worry about with Shooting Star's drinks: there were too many flavors to pick one out from another, or notice that one was off,).

Once that was complete, I went back into Dipper and Mabel's room. Ignoring Pine Tree, I went over to his sister. Yes, the concoction that I had mixed would help, but a few more distractions wouldn't hurt, either. And, boy, would this girl be easy to distract.

She was lying on her back, nearly hidden in the mound of pillows she had been gathering. I vaguely recalled an argument she had with her brother about the pillows disappearing around the house and how he needed one to watch something or other so he'd be comfortable or whatever physical feeling he felt he deserved. 

I was happy she kept the pillows. 

I scratched my head, wondering which idea I should plant in her colorful little mind. Torn between the increase of a desire to hunt for a boyfriend and wanting another project that would involve Pine Tree in such a way that would lower his energy even more, I finally settled on giving her the burning desire to throw a rather large party- a ball, complete with dresses and original music she would want to compose. 

That'd drag him in. Not enough to ruin my time with the boy, but enough to keep him exhausted, with less thinking capabilities. Just like before- that had been the perfect mental state for me to bribe him over to me. This time, though, I'd make sure to possess- oops, spoilers! Sooo sorry- him at a time when I myself could force him to sleep, so the physical downfall would affect him only. I wasn't going to make the same mistake as last time.

I rubbed my hands together, laughing. Typical, yes. But, then again, I made this cliche, so. 

This was going to be so fun.

The uncle had to be seen to, next.

His was easy. Dreams are always easier to plant than ideas are, and his nightmares are of the more typical ones. Several dreams for the next nights about a loss of income from that shack. Simple but effective. Add in a dream or two where those kids make dinner some nights and sit and watch TV and other boring, safe stuff, and you have one man blinded by his greed for the next two weeks.

Question Mark and that cashier girl wouldn't be a problem. The former was pretty stupid and the latter was going to meet another boy soon, who'd successfully drag her and that bag of tears of an ex into a battle so passive aggressive weeks would be spent analyzing what was said.

I drifted away from the old guy, floating up until I broke through the ceiling and was on the roof.

I hovered there for a moment, scanning the surrounding woods. I know what I wanted the boy to see- the monster in the lake had several smaller creatures. 'Ails,' they were called. Little and vicious when provoked, they looked like a bunch of small eels. They liked to drown things, luring their prey into the deep water before wrapping around the neck until the victim lost consciousness. While they weren't my favorites, I did enjoy their tendency to eat the unconscious-but-still-alive-and-drowning victim. Four or five times the prey had come back to it. Those were lovely memories.

Yes, enjoying their tendency to cause pain was a simple reason to like them, but every once in a while, simple is good.

I'd think that the boy would be fond these monsters. Not for the same reasons I did, of course, but that doesn't matter.

All I had to do was rattle them up. I couldn't bring Pine Tree to a pack of sleeping oil slicks for his first trek for knowledge, now, could I? It'd ruin the fun! Besides, he couldn't run now: I was bound to show him these things. Well, I was bound to give him knowledge. But therein lies the loophole: my methods of sharing information are up to me.

He had to see those beasts. And the others I would show him. Or else our deal would be broken. And, since he had fulfilled his end of the deal, things would get messy. For both of us, but especially for him- he was mortal, after all, and the shock waves of these broken deals tend to travel fairly fair. Far enough to swallow this town and whoever's in it into a hell-like land.

Oh, what a shame it would be, especially since they wouldn't be able to escape.

If you couldn't tell that was another spoiler to my plans.

He'd have to break his deal eventually, after all. He just wouldn't be aware of the consequences before it was too late.

I raised my hand in the direction of the lake, snapping my fingers. Immediately, the water heated up- it'd be as warm as bath water now. Warmer by the time Pine Tree managed to crawl down there. 

The Ails liked colder water. This would rile them up.

I let myself fall, the world darkening around me as I slipped through the shingles on the roof. I stopped my fall just above Pine Tree's sleeping form, raising a hand, getting ready to slap him, to wake him up, to cause the first of many sparks of pain he would feel from now to his death.

Was. 

And, satisfaction already sky-high, I brought my hand down.


	9. Chapter 9

He awoke with a shout. Or, he would have, had I not used a bit of energy to seal his mouth shut.

He flailed for a moment- I waited for him to stop before removing the seal. It didn’t go on as long as I would have liked, but that’s okay. There’ll be more later.

Immediately after he gained his bearings, he turned to me and said, “I’m thinking about backing out of a deal with Bill Cipher.”

I tensed a bit. He tensed a lot. We both stayed silent, and I closed my eye.

Stay calm, Bill, don’t destroy him yet. You knew this would happed. Can’t _not_ expect this.

“Yeah you are!” I said, finally, eye snapping open as he reached up and touched his lips. I waved a hand, answering before he could ask. “Your deepest secret, Pine Tree! You have to tell it to me!”

“Wait, what?”  
“It’s a continual thing! It’ll just come popping out whenever you see me. Hopefully you won’t say anything embarrassing around anyone!” I elbowed him in the side.

“How does this work?” he whispered, rubbing his forehead. He wasn’t asking me, but-

“Well, your deepest secret isn’t your deepest secret, since you told me! You just got a new one! And, kid-“ I darted over to him, a hair’s breadth away from his nose, “You have a dangerous secret right there. I’d be careful now.”

He jerked back, pushing himself against the bedframe. “I- I’m not going to do anything like that!” He said, his breathing quickening.

I laughed. Brush it off, Bill, it’s no big deal. He’s a fool and I have, maybe, one half of a millionth of a weakness. This plan is going to go nowhere. I relaxed.

“Of course you’re not! You’re not even able to!”

“No, Bill-“

“That’s me!” I shouted, ignoring his shushing and whipping my cane around and pointing it at his chest. “We gotta get moving, Pine Tree- the Ails won’t be there much longer!”

He looked unsure, and I could hear his heart beating quickly, but the lure of knowledge, sparkly and bright, drew his attention from most of his wariness. “I- the Ails? What are they? Are you in the mindscape? Am I? Is that why Mabel’s still sleeping? And did you do that thing to my mouth?”

“Nope. Obviously.” One of three true answers. Good for me- gotta dangle.

“Then why couldn’t I open it?”

Sometimes you gotta give up the dangle.

“No- no to not disturbing Shooting Star. Yeah, though, to the mouth thing. I did do that to you.”

“How? I thought- or, the Journal said you couldn’t affect things outside of the Mindscape?”

I laughed. “Kid, if that journal was right twice as much as it is about me, there’d be two correct facts!”

He cringed. Inwardly, I grinned. “Oh.” I could see the wheels in his mind turning, rethinking, replanning-

“Hey, can’t back out now! We do have ourselves a _deal_ , _”_ I kept myself from getting too red. Just red enough to scare.

A flinch, an avoidance of eye contact, and a yanking of the sheets was the only answer I received. Gotta use the doom echo more often.

“Got it?” I asked. I knew he did. But something in me was twisting, and I needed him to say it. To confirm that he _knew_.

“Kid.”

He nodded.

Eh, good enough.

“Great! So, let’s go!” I snapped my fingers, and he was shoved out of his bed, dropping to the floor with an _oof_. He remained there for a minute, breathing slowly, deeply. Immediately, something changed. I sighed, a gnawing staring in the back of my mind. Here we go. I drifted up a tad. I knew what he was going to ask. And-

“Bi-ll,” he said slowly, sitting up a the same rate. “I’m not- well, it’s not. Um. When does the deal break?”

There it was.

Thank goodness I’d be able to see some fear, some pain. Otherwise I’d’ve blown something up. Probably his stomach.

“Well, Pine Tree,” I said, drawing it out, “To put it simply: it doesn’t.”

He blinked, his face twisting. And then there it was: a spark of fear in his eyes, fear of the trap, the fear of the tricked. I couldn’t help it- I laughed, long and hard, as I felt the horror grow inside of him, like a rot. I felt myself turning even more golden, the happiness swimming through my mind was exhilarating.

“What?” he asked, a waver to what he attempted to make forceful. Try as I might, I couldn’t stop laughing. His eyes were comically wide, his hand twitching. “How- how does it not end?” he shouted, his jaw clenched.

There was silence from him for a few seconds, then: “Bill!”

I wiped away an imaginary tear from my eye, my laughter subsiding a bit. “Oh, Pine Tree,” I said between bouts of giggles, “Didn’t you hear me? I _have_ to give you information! I can’t ever stop, since there’s no end to this town! First little fact, boy- this town exists in many, many dimensions. And a replica counts in my book; ‘this town’ has other parts, and you gotta learn about them! An infinite number of other worlds, some filled to the brim with this very town- you’ll be stuck with me forever!”

Not that he would be- I was going to end all versions of this wrenched place. So ‘forever’ really meant a few weeks.

His eyes flashes, his fists clenching, fingers no longer twitching. “That doesn’t even make sense!” he shouted.

“Dipper?”

“Ah, there you go, Pine Tree!”

His head whipped to the side. “Mabel?”

“Why,” she rubbed her eyes. “Are you shouting? Did you have another nightmare?”

I laughed when Pine Tree looked up at me, his eyes widening.

“She can’t hear _me,_ kid.” He continued to stare, and I could hear his heartbeat rocketing. “Don’t worry- she can’t see me either.”

“Dipper? What are you doing?” She was more awake now, shifting and sitting up, twisting so her feet were on the ground. He ripped his eyes away from me and looked at her.

“No, sorry,” he said. Surprisingly calm sounding. He was a good liar. “I just-“

“Why are you on the floor?”

“I-“

“Do you want to sleep with me? I can move Waddles.”

“No, Mabel. I just… fell out of bed? And shouted when I… hit. The ground.”

She gave him a sideways glance. “Bro-bro, you’re so weird. Come here. It’s fine- it’s not like it’s the first time you’ve had to sleep with me because of nightmares.”

I did my makeshift grin at him, floating over next to his sister.  
So his nightmares were even more prominent than I realized. Fun.

“Mabel!” A quiver in his voice. An attempt to be angry, be normal, with her- but I was so close to her.

Not yet, though, would I harm her. I shifted away, towards the window. This was going to be boring now, so- “Come on, Pine Tree- It’s time to burn some midnight oil! Get away from her!”

She was saying something, but he was paying attention to me now, his head turned to face _me_.

“Can you shu-“ he broke off suddenly when he saw my recognizable grin, his gaze darting to his sister.

She didn’t talkf for a second, then she stood up slowly. “Dipper?” She asked, her voice low, calm, like she was talking to a frightened animal. “Are you- why are you talking to the window?”

“I- I, um.”

“Ooh, try lying your way out of this one, kid.” I crossed my arms and sat down on the sill.

“Are you okay?”

“Sleep deprivation!” He shouted suddenly. “I’m just… tired.”

Her lips pressed together, her cheeks sucked in. “Dipper, if it’s something else, you can-“

“No, no. It’s nothing else. Just a regular ol’ sleep hallucination!” He let out a laugh. Probably the fakest I’ve ever heard.

“Okay, Pine Tree, let’s go.”

“Go back to bed, Mabel. I’m fine. I’m just… going to get some water.”

Quickly, before she could reply, he darted out of the room. I rolled my eye and followed, ignoring his sister and the loud hair chewing that began as soon as he had turned away.

He went to the kitchen and sat on one of the chairs, the moon shining through the window not quite reaching him.

I let him sit for a few seconds, sent a small spark of a spell up to put Shooting Star back to sleep, and then made my way to the window.

“Ready, Pine Tree?”

“Mabel-“

“Asleep.”

“Already? What did you-“

“Nothing serious. A small spell. She’ll wake up in the morning, filled with dreams of stars and snow.”

He blinked, bringing his hands up to his eyes and rubbing them. “Okay,” he muttered. “Okay, Dip, you can do this.”

One of the most incorrect things he’s said all night. And it's been a night full of stupidity.


	10. Chapter 10

He stood up, glancing up at the window as he did so. He looked tired. Really tired.

All the better.

He walked over to the door, opening it slowly and slipping out, shutting it quickly but quietly behind him.

He walked quickly- so he was tired, but I could feel an undercurrent of something. Excitement would be the closest word to it, but there was anxiety mixed in there. Not enough to make him nervous, which was disappointing, because his back was turned to an all-powerful (terms and conditions apply, much to my chagrin, but he doesn’t have to know that,) demon. And one who liked fear, at that.

Oh, well. I grinned to myself. Soon enough.

“So, where are these things?” he asked once we hit the tree line. The kid knew the woods, I’ll give him that. Not well enough to save him when the time came, but well enough to get through if he had a few bearings.

“Right to the point! I like it, Pine Tree!” He sighed; I ignored him. “They’re in the lake!”

“The one with that giant head?”

“Yup!”

He stopped. “The…” he paused and gnawed on his lip. “The one that tried to eat us?”

I put a hand below my bowtie. That’s where my heart would be, should my body have been complex enough to support one, and my morals clean enough to house one. Neither was in my favor. “What? No!”

His eyes widened. “Wait, there’s another head in another lake?”

“No, there’s only one head around here,” I said. Laughter slipped out- I couldn’t help it. This boy walked into all sorts of word traps.

“What do you mean? Then it’s the one that tried to eat us!”

I pulled out my cane and tapped his head. “I,” I said, through my laughter, “Have never been attempted to be eaten by that low-class blemish.”

He opened his mouth and closed it. Briefly, his eyes flashed, but he bit his tongue.

“Okay. Is that the lake with the head that tried to eat my sister and I?”

“The very same!”

He sighed. “Should I be worried about it?”

“You aren’t going to start poking her, are you?”

“Her?”

“Shh! Unimportant. Though ‘it’ was not very kind. Just my opinion.”

He sighed again. “Okay. So I’ll be good.”

“If you are good.”

He grunted and began walking again, angling himself towards the lake.

He was getting a little disrespectful. I wasn’t sure if I liked it or not- on one hand, it showed that he was probably exactly the way I wanted.

On the other…

On the other, it meant that he could try to betray me. And that would make me very, very angry. And, much as I hated to admit it, I didn’t make the best decisions when I was angry.

A few nightmares, then. Probably about him, since he’d do a full-on freakout if they were about his sister.

Satisfied with this conclusion, I drifted after him.

It didn’t take long to reach the lake- he traveled in complete silence, only glancing at me twice. Once when I had used my cane to nudge him in a slightly different direction, and once more when I had burst out laughing, recalling a particularly wonderful instance of eye-gouging.

Did you know if you hit the eye just right, it actually popped out of the socket?

Anyways, though, we reached the lake, him pushing aside the foliage to step out onto the shallow shore. Steam was rising off the water and disappearing into the air, and he frowned even more deeply than he had been.

“Why-“ he muttered, before cutting himself off and beginning to chew on a thumbnail.

I let him think for a moment, curious as to what he would say. In the end, though, he said nothing, just dropped his hand to his side and began the short trek to the water. Foolish boy. Lovely boy.

“So what do these ‘Ails’ do? What do they look like?” he asked, once he reached the water’s edge. He shot a look at me over his shoulder, but turned back once he saw I was going to be silent. He bent down and dunked his hand into the water, his eyebrows furrowing. “Why is the lake…” Again, he drifted off. I waited.

“Do they… do they make the lake warmer?” He asked, squinting out over the water. Finally.

Clever boy. Kind of.

“No,” I said. Had to hold up my end of the bargain, tell him about these creatures. “The lake is warm because of some spring underneath or something. I don’t care enough to know more about it.” That wasn’t really breaking the bargain- after all, he hadn’t asked about me, and there was a spring in the caves under this lake. Not that they would ever have anything to do with the temperature of the water, but I couldn’t have him asking why I had heated up the water.

“Ails,” I said, before he could ask any more questions of his own, “Are like those eel things you humans eat.” I began to drift towards a small cliff-like thing over the lake, and he followed. “They swim and are omnivores, sometimes cannibals. They choose victims by smell- if you have a good smell to them, they pull you under and begin to eat.” We reached the edge of the small outcrop. He looked down, I looked across. “They work in packs and are pretty strong, though they eat pretty slowly. Most things pass out from either lack of oxygen or pain before they’re fully devoured.”

He bit his lip again, and shifted.

That’s when I noticed, for the first time- _come on, Bill, you’re better than this-_ the journal under his vest. Watching me warily, he shifted it out from its pocket and produced a pen. Flipping to a blank page, all the while watching me, he clicked the pen and held the journal against his forearm.

“How do you spell Ails?”

I sighed and rolled my eyes. “A-I-L-S.”

For fifteen minutes- fifteen minutes!- he was scribbling away in the journal. Finally, after filling up half a page with all that I have given him, he looked back up at me. His eyes were glittering.

“Do I get to see one?” he asked. I showed him my dazzling smiling facial contort.

“Of course you do, Pine Tree!”

And, before he could say another word, I shoved my cane into the small of his back and sent him flying over the edge into the waters below.

Where, I was pleased to see, the Ails were flitting about.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's two for today, to make up for the lost month :p  
> There's a bit of graphic violence in this one! Not too much, I don't think, but enough to receive a warning :o

He let out a scream as he fell, but hit the water almost immediately, so it sounded more like someone letting out a high-pitched shriek before blowing through their straw into their chocolate milk than an actual scream of terror. Disappointing, but quickly made up for- he came up immediately after, with just enough time to look up at me, and, oh, how I’ll relish the fear in his eyes for years to come, before, with a gasp, he was pulled under.

I laughed, long and loud, watching the bubbles below me. He surfaced once after the first time, gasping, but was pulled back under quickly.

Guess they liked his scent. Good. I figured they would, because he had blood, but you can never be too sure with those stupid water dwellers.

I let everything fester for a moment more, rubbing at my eye and letting the last of my manic laughter out before I dropped down underwater.

And am I ever glad I did! The view from down here was much more exciting- I have a pretty active imagination, but let me just say: this was better than anything I’ve seen in a long time! Pine Tree was thrashing, trying to throw the Ails off him, but they were wrapped around every extremity he had. One was around his neck, even, and I could see some skin on its teeth- upon closer inspection of the kid, I saw a decent-sized chunk of flesh missing from his chin, as well as a few from his upper arms and one from his calf.

Oooh, that’s gotta hurt. Laughter renewed, I pushed my way over to my nearly-unconscious friend. Had to get him out before he died- he was needed after all. But I knew I had time.

And I also had wants.

“Kid!” I shouted. “Kid!”

Thank me for my lungless, mouthless form. I’m a genius.

Eyes wider than ever before, he looked over at me, his body convulsing. He opened his mouth, and would have screamed had he had any air left in his lungs as one of the Ails took another bite of him. The water was turning darker, the moon just barely allowing me to see all the deep red that was filling the water.

“Want me to save you?” I asked, winking at him. His mouth, still opened, shut quickly, along with his eyes. “I’m winking at you, kid. I know you want me to save you.”

I snapped, and three of the Ails exploded, adding more blood to the water. It smelled delicious, it looked beautiful. No better shade in the world than the color of blood in the dark.

He opened his eyes again, three of his limbs suddenly, I suspected, much lighter, without anything tightening around them. I might have also added a bit of air to his lungs. I’m generous sometimes.

Of course, I had left the one around his neck and on his leg.

He kicked, but the thing wasn’t going to let go. I almost expected him to pull at the one around his neck, but knew he was close to fainting by now. It surprised me, actually, how long he was lasting.

“I help you the rest of the way, Pine Tree!” His eyes were half-closed, his kicks nonexistent. He began to sink down further, dragged towards the bottom by the Ails. I could hear more screeching as they swam closer, drawn by the blood their brothers were providing.

“I just need a small favor!”

Slightly, oh, so slightly, he nodded. His eyes were back wide again, the fear apparent, but now there was hope.

And, just the tiniest, tiniest bit of anger.

I could hear his heartbeat through the water, loud and frantic, pounding faster and faster despite the rest of him bleeding and dying. A stream of bubbles left his mouth as the Ail on his leg took another bite, one at his thigh.

The other Ails were drawing closer, their annoying vocal chords working overtime. He could hear them, too- his thrashing began anew, bubbled escaping from his lips. I laughed, again- this was such a wonderful night!- as he reached out a hand for me.

“When I pull you out, you gotta tell me your deepest fear!”

He didn’t even pause before stretching further, clasping my hand.

And, just as the first Ail reached us and bit onto his other hand, I sent a burst of magic to them, their bodies going stiff just before bursting into flame- I would highly recommend setting someone on fire underwater, it really is a spectacular sight. I yanked upwards, and he rocketed through the water, crashing through the surface and going, I would imagine, at least a few feet into the air before slamming back into the water. I clapped, and he- and I- were back on the outcrop. He stood for a split second, then hissed in pain, his knees giving out. He collapsed to the ground, his arms under his torso, his legs bent, his whole form shivering. The grass beneath him darkened, with water, yes, but mostly blood, and I dropped to the ground, quickly, before it could sink into the dirt, so I could add some new blood to my collection.

While I was near it, I went to inspect one of the bites, holding back a giggle when I saw how deep it was. The muscle and tissue were torn, savagely, roughly- it was not a clean wound. There was, I suspected, also bacteria in it. The Ails were not the cleanest creatures. He was gonna need my help to clean up, that’s for sure, and I doubt that he’d be able to walk without some of my magic. I looked over at his arms; those were even deeper. I jumped up, giddy. He was shaking, now, I suspected a bit from the cold, but a lot from the pain, and that made me so very happy, I had to restrain myself from doing a jig.

I glanced up from another one of his wounds when I heard a noise- he was choking on water, spitting it up, his chest heaving. I couldn’t hear his heartbeat, now, over the sounds of his reaching, but I would imagine it to be beating furiously.

After a few moments, he collapsed back to the ground, whimpering.

It took only a few seconds for the sobs to start.

How perfectly can an hour go?!


	12. Chapter 12

“So, Pine Tree, wanna fill your end of the deal now?”

He was still lying there, gasping. He began crying a few minutes ago- salt and water and blood and mucus pooling below his head. He was coughing up blood- this was equal parts from the tearing in his throat, (kid had some strong acid in his gut,) and that rib that snapped and tore a tinsy hole in his left lung when he his the ground.

My bad. What can you do though? Sit back and enjoy the suffering, I suppose, as hard as it it.

I resisted rubbing my hands together. I was loving every second of this.  
“Com’on, you’ve been sniveling for a quarter of one of your hours now. Let’s go! Uphold the deal!”

Normally, he’d be forced to spit out his deepest fear. Now, though, even with my magic, the bruises along his neck, coupled with the acid and water that scored his tongue and the inside of his throat just minutes ago and the shock he was twitching with were preventing any speech. I was mostly just trying to rile him up at this point.

“Any day, now,” I said. “Gotta tell me at some point, whether you like it or not.”

He vomited.

I left my position near his face and went to the space above the back of his head, watching it drop back down to the ground.

His lungs were rattling, I could hear, and his blood was still seeping out of his wounds. Not as quickly as before, but he’d still need medical attention. I went back down so I could look at his face. Well, mostly I wanted to look at the _fear_ on his face, but the idea is basically the same.

“Hey, you know, you’re probably going to have to give me something else after this- I’m going to need to heal you. I’ll make it cheap, though! Something small. Maybe just… Maybe just-“ His eyes darted up to me. I sent him one of my trademark smiles. “Maybe just an hour or two of using your body?”

He vomited again, his eyes squeezed shut. Why did he keep doing that? There wasn’t anything in his throat touching that wonderful uvula that humans have. I sighed and sat through his gagging. How weak was he? This wouldn’t be too interesting if he kept going like this- vomit and blood from a prone person were, well, easily forgettable.

Unless he was choking on it.

I laughed and floated up, willing more to come up from his stomach- he twisted, up righting himself up more now than he had on his previous episodes: head hanging down, arms barely holding him up, and began gagging again- and then I stopped the acid- because, really, that’s all that was left in his stomach at this point near his throat- just as it hit the middle of his throat.

He began coughing, tumbling over onto his side, clawing weakly at his throat, his eyes the widest they had been since we surfaced. His legs kicking, he rolled over onto his back and looked up at me, and I had to hold in my laughter for this, even though on the inside I was having a field day, and look down on him and waiting-

“Healing you means the return of oxygen to your lungs, Pine Tree. And stopping that internal bleeding- you didn’t land so well on those ribs. I’d be pretty worried about that left lung, if I were you.”

There it was.

The nod.

And the hand reach.

Nothing gets people faster, I knew, they a lack of oxygen. Ooh-ho, you should’a seen this one woman, all I had to do was _threaten_ suffocations and- well. Story for another time.

My point is, some- like this kid- don’t fear death. But the process to get there, when your entire body is thrashing and screaming and what can save you is so very close… well. It’s hard to pass up anything that offers salvation then.

Blue flames- the second ones tonight!- and I let the bile go up the rest of the way.

Unfortunately, he was still facing up. I sighed and flipped my hand, shoving him to his side.

There was a few minutes of gagging, and I hears hisses of pain as the wounds on his neck and limbs were knitted shut, (not my best work; they’d scar, pretty badly, but, hey. He didn’t request clear skin,) before a raspy, “I’m afraid that I’m going to loose Mabel,” left his throat. “Because of something I can’t control.”

I threw a hand up to where my mouth would be, according to humans. Such a surprising fear! Who would have ever thought that Dipper Pines was afraid of loosing his sister?!

Oh, well. Something lame for something as small as lifting him out of the water. Though I did loose a nice opportunity to watch someone die…

Eh. I’ll let it go. I’m a nice guy.

He began to cry, softly. Again. Couldn’t he at least give my a good sobbing show? I closed my eye, sighing.

“You either stop crying or you’re walking home on your own,” I said.

He didn’t stop.

I shrugged, turned, and went back to the mindscape. No need for flash. He wasn’t gonna notice, anyways.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two chapters today, because I'm a gift to the writing world.  
> (No. I lied. I'm sorry. :( It's actually because I haven't uploaded in a while and am trying to atone for those writing sins.)
> 
> This chapter is third person point of view- Bill is not narrating! (Dipper's got a break. Sort of.)

_Stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid!_

Another sob escaped his lips. It was heavy, all this on his shoulders. The naivety of what he was, the idiocy of what he had done, the foolishness with which he had acted…

He wanted his heartbeat to slow down. He was so tired, right now, of being weak. He was away from the Ails, the little demon fish that had tried to eat him alive. He was on land, away from them. So why was his heart still racing? Why was he still-

Fresh tears spilled over. He was surprised that he had been able to hold them in for so long; it was only seconds after the glowing demon had left that he couldn’t hold it in anymore, that he had let out a scream, the vast expanse of the lake filled with the hoarse cries of some kid shortsighted enough to make a deal with a powerful demon, thinking he could outwit someone who had millennia of experience.

He screamed again, rolling onto his side and clutching his knees to his chest, despair tightening around his lungs. He wanted to scream louder, he wanted to throw himself against the ground and kick and scream and cry for a thousand years, until his the tree roots grew around him and used his flesh for nutrients.

But his legs were still on fire and his throat was still so raw and he had to stay strong, he had to stay brave because he had to protect his sister, he had to keep her safe, and she might have thrown a tantrum but she would be able to pull herself up from it, and he didn’t think he was that strong.

Besides, screaming for thousands of years until the trees took over was illogical.

He sat up, slowly, wincing and drawing his knees to his chest, and another wave of frustration hit him and he pressed the palms on his hands into his temple, grabbing his hair and letting out another scream, this one much shorted because his throat really did hurt still.

He sat for a minute, panting, before slowly lowering his hands, blinking away the tears resting in the corners of his eyes, letting out a shrill shriek- manliness be damned- when new tears quickly replaced the old, blurring his vision.

He wanted to stand up and leave. But it was still painful to move, to breathe.

He wanted to be free of Bill. He wanted to stop his heart from pumping so much blood, his mind from releasing so much adrenalin.

He wanted his sister, his best friend, his other half. He wanted a hug and he wanted a movie night, and he wanted no questions asked and pancakes.

He wanted the ability to go back, back to when he was chocking on the ground and dying, (he could feel it, you know. The dying; the heavy cloud in his mind, weighing down everything but the fear, the desperation to live, and he was so, so, scared,) and be braver, this time, shake his head ‘no’ instead of ‘yes’, look Bill Cipher in the eye and watch him with his dying moments, but instead he was weak. Weak. And now Bill could have his body again, Bill knew his deepest fear and deepest secret, and he could hurt Mabel, he could hurt Stan or Soos or Wendy, he could hurt Mabel or Mabel or Mabel or-

He shook his head, hard, gagging when bile-crusted hair hit his face.

He needed to wash off. He was coated in blood and vomit and sticky greens from the lake and the grass.

He needed to figure this out. He was in a situation, and he needed to get out of it.

He was smart. Or, he was supposed to be.

He took in a shaky breath. No. He _was_ smart. It was his cowardice that led him to making the stupid deal- the possession one. It was fear, it was weakness. But it was not stupidity. That had been the first deal. The one where he agreed to let Bill back into his life. _That_ was the only stupid thing he had done, he was sure of it.

But he was smart. He knew he was. Everything said so- his grades, his parents, his sister, his books and the IQ tests he took online that put him at Einstein level, (he needed to look into those, actually, because if that was true he needed to apply to MENSA, as soon as possible,).

His breathing evening out, he stared across the lake, brows furrowed.

He just needed to figure a way out of this. He could do that- every problem has a solution. All he needed to do, he reasoned, was find this solution.

He scoffed. _All he needed to do. Just gotta outsmart a demon. A smart demon. A loophole-finding, slippery-as-an-eel demon. Yeah. A walk in the park._

He sighed, wincing as his lungs expanded.

For a brief second, anger flashed through his mind, red and blinding. He wasn’t even healed all of the way. He was still in so much pain. He gave up his body for _nothing_ -

He froze. The anger dissipated, thawing into the cold blue of logic that Dipper loved so much.

And then the bright blue of an idea. His heart stopped.

He was still wounded. Bill would get a wounded body. So long as he took the body in the next week or so, he would be hindered.

Just like last time.

A grin spread across his face.


	14. Chapter 14

Maybe it was because he managed to hold off his fit until I left.

Maybe it was because I didn’t actually see as much blood as I would have liked.

Maybe I was just getting harder to please.

Whatever it was- a few minutes in the Mindscape and I was enraged.

I watched the kid throw his tantrum. Watched his eyes dart back and fourth and his muscles groan and his vocal chords scream. I watched his plan setting in, his grin spread, his rise from the fall.

Stupid kid.

Didn’t he know I had eyes everywhere?

Did he think I would stop watching as soon as I left? That my attention would really be fully adverted for that long? As soon as he began to scream, I was back, he a larger importance than that genocide that was going on a few dimensions over.

And he was the idiot who thought he was alone. Who was planning to overpower me. In broad sight.

I felt myself flash red. This was ridiculous. I cursed, crushing some poor sap’s teeth in some random dimension.

If that idiot Author hadn’t put that spell on the book.

If I was able to just _burn it into oblivion_.

If I didn’t have to _deal with little shit faced-_

Sorry. That was vulgar.

If I didn’t have to deal with _absurd little specks of unimportance._

Not at satisfying, but more true.

_IF I DIDN’T HAVE TO PUT UP WITH THIS UNRULY BEHAVIOR._

Why was this all falling apart so soon?

Redder and redder, redder and redder- had to calm down, _had_ to calm down.

Sending a nightmare his way, (a backup, insurance in case I didn’t get back soon enough,) I flashed back over into the genocide.

A bit of shrapnel would make me feel better.

For nearly thirty minutes, I tore metal through flesh, ingraining it into eyes, stuffing it into bone.

With one last mental push, I sent a thread of barbed wire through a woman’s throat. A gurgling scream, a mental plea for her children, and I was out, still feeling that unhinged feeling that was usually gone by the time I had murdered a few hundred.

It was most satisfying, and there was a strange sort of murderous calm when I returned to my domain… though I still felt myself teetering. Toeing that line between control and a lack thereof. I couldn’t get myself under complete control, a rarity for me.

This wasn’t going according to my plan. He wasn’t supposed to deviate so soon. I wasn’t supposed to be so loose.

And this just made me angrier.

I was twitching, flickering with pure energy and fury.

I sent my gaze his way- he was barely halfway through the forest. Still hobbling, weak.

Maybe I should teach him a lesson. Now, not later. Not in some silly nightmare- I knew he had the journal now. But I’d need more time than two hours to destroy it; the spells that infernal thing was blocked with would require at least a day.

Something inside of me snapped. Really, truly snapped.

I really should get some more control of my anger. Of myself. This, really, is embaressing.

But the kid was going to try to show me up?

_Me?_

I’d teach him for even _thinking_ that I would be stupid enough to fall for that idea of his.

With that thought, the rest of my control slipped, and I tore through the walls separating the dimensions, rushing the boy from behind.

“Piiiiine Tree!” I sang, “Time to fufill!”

He didn’t even have time to turn around fully before he was shoved out of his body, the little ghost boy sending out a scream- of _rage?!_ \- before I was in, praising myself for my genius earlier. I could do a lot in two hours.

A lot.

“Bill! Bill!” He was shouting, and I realized that I was lying face down on the ground. The muscles in his- my- face twitched, and I rolled the head to the side, grinning up at him.

“Pine Tree,” I said. “So good to see you again.”

Shaky arms pushed me up, legs twitching, leaping out to catch this heavy torso when it began to tilt.

Walking was so much harder in the real world.

“Bill! What- you can’t- you can’t just-“

“Oh, I can, Pine Tree! I can do whatever I want! And now-“ I shifted, bones cracking, muscles mending even more- “I’m gonna teach you a lesson.”

His face, surprisingly, paled. I began to laugh, raking fingers down each arm. “You thought- you thought you could outsmart me? Kid, how dumb do you think I am?” A step, more laughter, and I took off, running towards the shack. He let out a cry and flew after me, going in and out of his body, uselessly. “Like I wouldn’t heal you! You thought- I _cannot believe_ you _actually_ thought- that I wouldn’t do such a thing!”

It was getting hard to breathe, the lungs burning, the thighs, (calves?) ‘screaming’. It was great. He was shouting, but I wasn’t paying attention, too focused on all that red and blue and yellow infrared the trees were sending out and listening to the stars, focusing in on Shooting Star’s breathing.

Because, really, what did this kid cherish most?

“You’re a fool! A little fool!” I heard myself, I was screeching, but it didn’t matter. I was tempted to smash the body into the tree, but the shack, now, was coming into view, and I had things to do.

I couldn’t get the journal now.

But he still had to learn.

So I would go after something else.

“Hey, Pine Tree! Do you know how long a sleeping spell lasts?”

He came to a complete stop, disappearing from my vision. More laughter bubbled up, spilling over these lips and into the night, and more things were cracking, my vision, even in this body, going red.

“They usually,” I called, when I got to the porch, “Wake up under duress!”

I saw it click in his eyes, even from here, even red tinted, and I bit down on this tongue, the laughter still coming. He screamed and shot forward, but there was nothing- _nothing-_ he could do now, and I, more powerful than he even in this disgusting meat sack, would hurt, would maim, would torture Shooting Star, because that was how this _worked_ , that was how _I_ worked, that was how the _world_ worked.

And he was gonna watch every second of it. How could he not? Just leave his sister here, helpless?

“Come on, Dip!” I screamed, ruffling up the birds. “Fun’s about to start!” And, just before he made it to me, I darted through the door to the Mystery Shack and slammed it, whirling around and charging up the stairs.

Fun, fun, _FUN_!


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Torture scene that (I think) gets fairly violent. Sorry.

I forgot how hard it was to go up stairs. How much coordination it took. But when you’ve been hovering for as many millennia as I have, can you really blame me for tripping a few times? Pine Tree didn’t even really need _four_ canines, now, did he? And, man, were those nerve endings sensitive! I poked at the holes as I stumbled up the last three steps, screeching with laughter.

Had I gone a little too far? You bet. Did I care anymore? Not one eensy bit. The plan was gone. To be honest, it had been gone for a while. I mean, I had to manipulate the boy’s mind just to get him to make a deal! Leave traces of rot in that big head of his just so he’d shake my hand. Disgusting. The script was shit from the start.

But I’ve always been good at improv, even when emotionally compromised.

He was still flying around me, trying to get his body back. As if he’d be strong enough to kick _me_ out after a deal! I laughed harder at that thought, my voice echoing through the room. “Hey, Dip, you know what I’ve always loved about humans?” I took a few steps towards where Shooting Star’s body lay prone under her covers. “Each scream is unique!”

The words were hard to push around the blood and bone swimming in this mouth. What strange things, mouths. I loved ‘em!

“Bill! Bill! STOP! BILL!” That incessant screaming wasn’t doing much to help my mood. Something inside of my mind snapped, something broke and something else flowed freely for the first time in a long, long time. My frustration and anger really exploded. The world in front of me turned red, the trees in the window loosing all shades of blue and green and black, the stupid pine tree hat turning a muddy brown.

“You thought you could deviate from me!?” I screamed. He froze, his eyes widening, hovering just above his sister’s body. “You thought that you could turn against me, that you could overpower me!?” I cackled, throwing this head back. “Here’s your third lesson, Pine Tree! _NEVER CROSS BILL CIPHER!”_

He screamed as I threw myself forward, passing right through his legs and landing heavily on his sister’s body. There was some movement, but not much. Not yet.

Lovely little girl, crafting even in bed- scissors right next to her head, bedside table, those amazing fabric shears. I grabbed them, blindly, and shoved them down through the blanket.

Dipper screamed. Her eyes popped open and she twisted, gasping. I let go of the scissors, now stuck in her stomach- not deeply; they had to travel through quite a bit of blanket and this boy’s arms are weak, so weak, but I still saw blood begin to stain the sheets around those neon green shears, still felt the laughter bubbling up, spilling out. The kid was screaming, high-pitched, terrified, throwing himself at me again and again to no avail.

“Do you feel that, Mabel?” I shrieked. “It’s scissors!”

At last she screamed. Dipper screamed louder. “Mabel! Mabel!” Over and over and over, her heart matching his chant.

“D-Dip-” She stammered, twisting, grimacing, the scissors pulling at her skin.

_“Mabel!”_

“Nope!” But how funny would it be if she thought it was Dipper torturing her? That’d hurt the kid. But not as much as the fear of me coming back afterwards would hurt her. Besides, she’ll subconsciously associate the face with the action. Ha!

“You know what I’ve always wanted to do, _Shooting Star?_ ” I asked, grabbing the scissors again. “I’ve always wanted to cut you open and use your skin for a bowtie!”

_“Mabel!”_

She screamed.

“I would have made a sweater if I wore them!” I shouted, yanking the scissors. She screamed again, her shriek cut short by my hand on her throat. “Don’t you just _love_ irony?”

_“Mabel!”_

“Dip-“ she gasped, and Dipper screamed again, shouting her name, frantically circling the two of us, and I drove the scissors into her stomach.

“Oh, he’s right here, sweetie! Don’t worry about that!” I ripped them out, waved the scissors in front of her face, digging my knee into her side. Her eyes squeezed shut, tears leaking out, her face going red with the effort of wanting to scream and not being able to.

_“Mabel!”_

“Hey, now! No cheating! If your brother’s going to watch, you are, too!”

_“Mabel!”_

And with that, I opened the scissors and brought them to her eye. “Eyelids are just so cumbersome!”

_“No! Bill!”_

Just before I could press down, though, she jerked violently, sending my head into the wall, hard, my hand dislodging from her throat.

“ _Grunkle Stan!”_ she shrieked, twisting frantically. “ _Help!”_

The sheets were no longer pink, but some hideous brown. It made my stomach flutter.

“He ain’t gonna hear you, honey!” I blinked, the bed merging back into a single object, and smiled down at her. “He’s asleep!"

She gasped, grabbing one of her stuffed animals and throwing it... towards the door. Not even bothering to aim it at me. Stupid girl- trying to save these  _things_? What was the point? I laughed- "Missed me!"- and drove my fist into her cheek.

The side of my leg was wet with her blood- the scissors must have gone in deeper than I thought. I jabbed my knee back into her side, her scream muted to my ears, this time, as I drove the scissors into her shoulder, ripped them out, and drove them in again.

“Isn’t this fun? Isn’t this fun?”

She was sobbing now, the scissors finding her hand and digging into her palm, finding their way under a nail.

“You sure do bleed a lot!”

I didn’t even hear Pine Tree shouting anymore. All I saw, all I heard, was Mabel’s heartbeat, Mabel’s blood, Mabel’s ragged breathing.

Once more I drove the scissors into her skin, felt the steel glance off of bone, her rib keeping me from her lungs.

This time she didn’t scream. She blinked, her eyes drifting to the side before snapping back to me. Her hand shot up, clipping me in the chin, but the blankets were really hindering her ability to move properly.

“Hey! We both know I have a thing for teeth- why hide it?”

The sharp edge of the scissors met her gum. “Pine Tree just lost some teeth- wanna stay identical?”

I drove the blade under the tooth that mirrored Dipper’s lost one. She screamed, jerked and the scissors tore out before the tooth. Damned metal. 

But there really wasn’t much she could do to win; we both knew it. She was too weak now. Lost too much blood, that knee-jerk reaction, I knew, was going to be her last hurrah.

There was darkness inside of my throat and anger inside of my mind and my vision was still red, so red, and I knew that I had won.

I grabbed her wrist, smashing it down onto her rib cage, taking the scissors back to her eye. “Maybe, since you don’t want to look,” I said, “I’ll do you a favor and just take out your whole eye!”

I pushed, felt the scissors slip in, the strangest part of the human to injure is the eye, it’s so slippery, so smooth-

And then I felt hands on my shoulders, the bed, the body beneath me disappearing, a new sound added to the mix; a roar.

Before I could fully process everything, I was across the room, bouncing off the bed into the wall, my vision going double for the second time in an hour. I had just enough time to see Stanley bending over Mabel, fully awake, pulling the unconscious girl into his arms, with the boy behind him, possessing that _stuffed toy, that little-_  before I black out and was thrown into the Mindscape.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also, I'm sorry it's been so long. Thank you, though, for putting up with this.


	16. Chapter 16

He didn’t have time to process everything. Grunkle Stan was quick- much quicker than he was expecting, much quicker than he was hoping, bounding up the stairs as soon as he had caught sight of the puppet hovering before him, his palm with a tiny bubble of blood from the thumbtack jabbed into him leaving an almost indistinguishable trail up the railing.

Mabel’s screams were loud. So ungodly loud, the blood- there-

He saw his body, flying across the room, slamming into the wall and Grunkle Stan’s hands around Mabel’s shoulders before-

A bright flash, a searing pain, just like last time, just like last time-

Darkness. A minute, at most. And then more light, softer this time, whiter and more earthly. Distantly, he registered the sound of a car screeching in the distance. Less distantly, he heard his own ragged breathing, felt the pain coursing in waves through his body. His head aching and the smell of blood so strong, the bile in his throat before he was even fully aware he was back in his body, all over his bed before he was aware that he was vomiting.

He gagged, sniffed, tears filling his eyes as he stared at the mess on the bed sheets below him.

Oh, god. Oh god oh god oh-

He vomited again. Bile and blood and shame, deep, clenching in his stomach.

oh god oh god oh god oh god he

he didn’t

he didn’t want to look up, but he did, and there was so much _goddamn blood he was-_

vomiting a third time.

His throat was raw, his teeth stinging from the acid, his nose burning and his vision blurry. He felt like he was going to be sick forever. He _deserved_ to be sick forever. What did he do? What was he thinking? Mabel, Mabel, Mabel was-

He choked, bile and tears and horror.

He had to get to her.

He leapt off the bed, skidding for a moment in fluids, and for the first time he noticed that his hands were dark with her blood, his skin stained red.

He screamed, stumbling back, clenching his eyes shut and holding his hands away from his body as though that would get the blood away from him, as though he wasn’t covered in her blood everywhere else. He fell over some books, crashing to the floor, staining the wall behind him and the floor below him and the papers beside him, everything, everything, red red red.

Gasping, his voice raw, he sobbed, wanting nothing more than for Grunkle Stan to come back for him, for Mabel to be okay, for a hug, for-

For Bill to _die_.

The thought struck him hard, viciously, his hands clenching before he felt his fingers sliding and he had to stop, gagging on what little was left in his stomach.

He sat there a minute, tears still leaking down his face, before falling back against the wall, limp.

Useless. A useless idea.

Opting to breath through his mouth, to get control of the situation.

He wanted to go find Mabel. His head hurt, his throat hurt, his body hurt, his heart hurt, and he needed Mabel, needed to make sure she was okay.

But he didn’t deserve to see her, did he? He opened his eyes, gaze trailing across the room, over her glistening- _glistening_ \- bed to her nightstand, tipped over, to the window.

The window.

His vocal chords aching from the sudden scream, he gripped a book at random and threw it will all his might at the triangle-shaped plane of glass, the heavy volume and a rare moment of accuracy combining to shatter the thing, hairline cracks turned spider web turned fissures turned glass shards, raining down into the room and onto the roof.

A sudden chill filled the air, the breeze from outside much colder than it had any right to be. He sat there, panting, a twinge in his side and a fire in his eyes.

He wanted to see Mabel.

He wanted to kill Bill.

But he didn’t deserve to see Mabel.

And he couldn’t kill Bill.

 

+++

 

It took him a half hour to rise up. Something in the back of his mind told him to clean, to make it easier for Mabel when _(if)_ she returned. But there was so much blood and he was so weak and he stripped her mattress and saw that the blood had made it into even that and gave up, opting instead to shove both their comforters and most of her crafting supplies into the trash and let Grunkle Stan deal with the rest.

Just like he was making him deal with Mabel, like he would be making him deal with Bill, like he would be making him deal with Dipper himself.

He ignored these thoughts and strips, shoving his clothing into the wastebasket with the blankets, and pulls on his pajamas, slipping on a pair of sneakers and walking downstairs to the phone, waiting for a call.

Twitching, all the lights on and all the doors locked (including the one to the attic) he sits down, head in his arms.

The sun had never risen more slowly.

He doesn’t fall asleep, but he does drift, jerking at half-formed nightmares and memories. He imagines Grunkle Stan walking in three times before he actually does walk in, shaking Dipper gently by the shoulder, his gruff uncle pulling him into a tight hug before he can distinguish this Stan from the sort-of-dream Stans.

Dipper begins to sob, clutching at Stan, wishing he weren’t so weak, weren’t so pathetic, weren’t accepting love he didn’t deserve, weren’t doing all of this, even, before asking about Mabel.

“Kid,” Stan whispers into his shoulder, after a while, “It’s gonna be okay. She’s gonna be okay, and we’ll handle this.”

He cries harder, breath hitching, half-formed apologies to every one of Stan’s words. They stay like that for what seems forever, for what seems like it will be forever; and just as Stan’s knees start to give out Dipper’s body remembers that Dipper is twelve and he had gone through so much and he is so very tired and now, for a moment, he is safe, and so he passes out, stress overriding everything else.

Stan eases Dipper back into the chair, and then goes to change. He grabs some food, a blanket, and Dipper, and carries his hoard out to the car so they can drive to the hospital where Mabel is waiting.

Though people in comas can’t _really_ wait.

The hospital where Mabel is lying, then.

They drive to the hospital where Mabel is lying.

On the way, Stan bites his tongue to keep from crying, one hand on the wheel, the other around Dipper.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> maybe its decent??  
> im really really really sorry for the long wait. its been a rough few months. thank you, though, for all your comments and kudos :) <3


	17. Chapter 17

Dipper doesn’t wake until noon, and only then it’s because Stan, against his better judgment but unable to ignore the growling in his stomach any longer, shakes him gently and tells him that he’s going to have to get up and get them some food.

There’s a brief moment where Dipper, still half-asleep and still exhausted like he gets sometimes, feels some weirdly strong tug to remind Grunkle Stan to get Mabel something sweet.

But before he can process it he’s suddenly on a cold chair and Stan’s footsteps are growing ever fainter and he doesn’t remember any of the chairs in the Shack made out of plastic-

He bolts upright, dry eyes snapping open.

Oh, god.

It doesn’t all _rush_ back so much as it _explodes_ back- the entire night before bursting to life in his mind, all the details coming back in agonizing clarity.

He doesn’t throw up, at least.

But he does start to sob again, sitting there, because he’s staring at his sister, asleep and pale and poked and covered in gauze and her head is shaved- _shaved_ \- and he’s the one that put her there.

He’d try to wake her up if he thought that he deserved to talk to her. The steady beeping of the heart monitor soothed him some; it was all surface wounds, he hoped, that would heal up. Maybe they wouldn’t even scar. Maybe Bill-

            he choked

-hadn’t really hurt her.

There was something in his throat, something around which he could not breathe.

He forced himself to look away from her eye, the gauze around it slightly different from the other bandages, slightly more brown-

            he leaned over the side of the chair and threw up.

Thank goodness there was a trashcan there.

He was loud, so loud, gagging, and he was sure that it would wake Mabel up, but she has always been a deep sleeper, he supposed, especially when she was sick

            _mauled_

or stressed.

He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, blinking slowly. He should do something.

He reached down to pull the bag out of the trashcan. He’d throw it into the bag in the bathroom; he didn’t want Mabel waking up to the smell of his vomit.

While he was in there, he rinsed his mouth, avoiding looking into the mirror, though his tongue found the space where his tooth had been, the gun still raw and soft. He stifled a shudder and walked back to the chair, pulling it closer to Mabel’s bed before sitting down. He reached out and grabbed her hand, but before he could say anything Grunkle Stan was walking back into the room, holding two cups of soup.

For a moment Dipper’s stomach dropped, but he figured that it was okay. He deserved to skip lunch. He had, after all-

Stan clapped a hand on his shoulder, giving it a squeeze, and held out one of the Styrofoam cups. “Here,” he said. “Italian Wedding. Pretty fancy, if you ask- Kid, take it.“

Dipper reached up, slowly, and grabbed the soup. He swallowed thickly, and Stan noticed that he wasn’t looking him in the eye.

His mind, automatically censoring- _baked ziti_ \- before he realized, with a metaphorical morbid twist of the lips, that the twin that really cared about swearing couldn’t hear him, even if he was speaking aloud. So.

_Shit. Shit, shit, shit. FUCK._

Dipper was looking at Mabel, the soup balanced in one hand, tilting dangerously to the side.

_Fuck_. _Okay._

“Listen, Dipper. I’m-“ he cut off, suddenly, grabbing a spoon and shoving some of the meatballs into his mouth. _I’m so sorry, I should’ve been faster, don’t blame yourself._ It was too hot, but he didn’t care, couldn’t bring himself to care. Dipper glanced up, his brows furrowing, before his face fell and he put his cup on the table.

“When do you think she’ll?” he asks. “She likes Italian Wedding. I think because the noodles look like small moons.”

Stan swallowed. “Eat your soup, Dipper.”

“But-“

“Dipper. Eat.”

“Grunkle Stan,” Dipper asked, his voice hoarse, “What about Mabel?”

And Stan could see the kid stiffening, could practically hear the word _COMA_ screaming through his mind. He tilted his head back and tossed the soup down his throat, his eyes tearing up from the heat.

From the heat.

He can hear Dipper beginning to sniffle.

“I’m going to call your folks,” Stan says. “Soon as you eat. They, uh. Think I’m her dad right now, so.”

He can hear Dipper begin to sob.

“I-“ his voice cracks. The soup is still hot. His eyes are still wet. “I’m so sorry, Dipper. I should’ve-“

He breaks down, sinking into a crouch, reaching one hand out to grab Mabel’s knee and the other to clutch Dipper’s shoulder, despite the fact that all he wants to do is bury his head in his hands, is bury the shame.

Dipper stiffens, and he almost takes his hand away, sure his great-nephew is disgusted by his touch, when he feels Dipper twist then the kid is throwing his arms around Stan, muttering that it’s his fault, that Stan has it all wrong, and Stan wants to hug the boy as tightly as he can but he doesn’t want to take his hand away from Mabel and he really, really doesn’t know what to do.

He suppose that setting the kid straight should take priority. And then telling him about his sister’s condition. And then.

Sending them home?

Sending one of them home?

Loosing contact.

Loosing family.

            Again.

Instead of doing all of this, Stan cries harder.

 

***

 

It’s three hours before Dipper finishes his soup. Three hours of ping-ponging blame, three hours of learning, definitively, that Mabel is in a coma. He wants to know whether it’s medically-induced, but Stan isn’t sure. Three hours of tissues and exhaustion and holding Mabel’s hand.

For some reason, no doctors come in.

This is Stan’s first clue that something is wrong, but he doesn’t realize it. As he’s about to leave, Dipper speaks up.

“Grunkle Stan-“  
“If you say sorry one more time, I’m gonna knock your teeth out.” He winces when Dipper does.  
“No, I- What are we gonna do about Bill?”

Stan pauses in the doorway. He hadn’t gotten the full story out of Dipper; he knew enough, though- the basics of the deal (even though he wanted the specifics,), the romps in the woods, the whole thing with those eels and all.

“We’re gonna kill him, Dipper.”

He hears Dipper’s smile right before he bounces off of _something_ over the door.

This is the second clue that something is wrong, and he realizes it. The third clue, which solidifies everything, is a sharp scream- one that sounds like it should be Mabel’s, but is, in fact, Dipper’s.

Stan whirls around just in time to see the room bleeding color.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *coughs* been a while, huh.


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This got violent, too. Sorry!!

“I’M BAAAAAACK!”

I might be screaming a bit too loud. But, hey, if you’d been trapped in the mindscape, in the middle of your big plan, as long as I had- twelve human hours! Twelve! Just to regain my strength!- you’d be angry, too!

At least I waited a bit, built up the surprise. Built up the suspense, built up the intrigue. Built up the plan. Built up the trap.

The room was monochrome, the only things of color myself and the Pines. Well, two of the Pines. The third was pretty pale. Flimsy human bodies.

“Hey, Shooting Star’s not looking so good!”

Pine Tree was shaking viciously, anger or fear, I couldn’t really tell. (Oh, who am I kidding? It’s totally from fear.) Stanley was still by the door, his hands clenched into fists. There were tear-tracks on both their faces.

“Aw, you guys were crying for me! Didn’t know I’d be coming back to such a sentimental group! Almost makes a guy feel loved!”

The old man opened his mouth to speak, but I waved my hand. “Can it, Stanley! Nothing of interest ever comes out of that maw. In fact-“ there was very little room left, suddenly, the entire area glowing red with me. “MAYBE I SHOULD JUST SAVE US THE TROUBLE AND RIP OUT YOUR TONGUE.”

I raised my hand, that same feeling of elation that I had felt while driving those scissors through Shooting Star’s flesh coursing through my mind. Because I’d either get to rip out Stanley’s tongue, or-

“Bill! No!”

Or that.

Immediately, I was back to my loveable old self. Just slightly bigger and maybe a little too close to Pine Tree’s face for human comforts. Oh, and my eye was still pretty red.

“Hey, Pine Tree! Long time no see!” He flinched. ‘Atta boy. “Been up to anything exciting since you BETRAYED me?” He wasn’t meeting my eye.

And then, of course. He looked at his sister. And suddenly his eyes were blazing, staring right into my own.

“I- I- You were the one that-“

“Now, now, my dear puppet! Don’t go blaming all your mistakes on me! I followed the deal!”

“No! You hurt Mabel-“

“She’s still alive, isn’t she?”

“The deal is _off_!”

Had to hand it to the kid. He was pretty brave for all this kitten-trembling he was doing.

But still. He was being pretty disrespectful.

“Hey, you aren’t being too nice, kid. Especially since I could kill every single one of you with the snap of my fingers. Besides,” I went on, allowing myself to grow large again. “I’m the only reason your sister there is still alive.” He took a step back, Shooting Star’s arm now at what looked to be an uncomfortable angle. I floated a bit closer to him, forcing one more step, an even more painful twist to her arm.

If I could, I’d be grinning.

Wait.

“Hey!” I shouted. “I can!” Pine Tree blinked, that wonderful terror back, mixed now with confusion, before he screamed as my face split open, tongue lolling out, teeth glinting in the gray lighting, all sharp and pretty.

Am I great or what?

Something behind me shifted, some part of my body stinging, and I allowed myself a moment of gnashing before flipping myself around, bricking myself back together to face a very small, very angry Stanley.

“Stanley! Ever see my teeth?”

He growled, like some animal, and raised his fist again.

“They’re great for chewing things!”

His hand came flying at me. A left-hook, I think.

I ate it.

Well, I ate his whole arm. I was too big to really be careful, you know?

I won’t describe what it tasted like. I suspect (I know) the bathing habits of Stanley were pretty similar to those of his nephew’s. Besides, it’s hard to give your refined opinion when you’ve got the destruction of a family on your mind. Stanley was on his knees, his remaining hand grasping the bloody stump of his other arm, gasping.

Let’s take him down another notch!

“YOU TASTE JUST LIKE YOUR BROTHER DID.”

Stanley looked up at me, and I could see myself in his eyes, just like I saw myself in his brother’s eyes when he dared face me again. A yellow triangle, so silly in their dimension, so powerful in mine. His mouth was opening and closing, his face flashing between pain and fear and something breaking.

Wonderful!

Dipper was screaming behind me. Oh, yeah. I forgot that he’d be able to see this. And here I wanted a private moment with Stanley. Oh, well. The kid was gonna find out eventually, once I-

I coughed, and up Stanford’s corpse. Well, the chewed remains of it.

Hello, drastic plot changes!

And then Stanley began to scream. Dipper, too, but he was just scared.

“Wanna know how long he’s been dead, Stanley? Fifteen years! Haha! I kept him in my stomach!”

Stanley was still clutching his arm, the bloody, spit-covered mess that was his brother lying only feet from him. There were a few identifying traits- the face was pretty marred, and both his legs were gone. But.

“Look at that! His hands look brand-new!”

Stanley leaned over and vomited. There was something so delightful about this. My entire being was glowing. Metaphorically as well as literally. I couldn’t have imagined this would come out of such a mistake… I should loose my temper more often. Get the chance to finally show Stanley his brother? My dreams have come true. And still, the night was young!

“That’s why you went down this path, right? ‘Cause he was a six-fingered freak?”

He was still gagging. Dipper’s screams had stopped, and when I opened an eye on my back I saw that he was white as a sheet, staring at the body on the floor, Mabel’s hand held to the point of almost-breaking. “Pine Tree! Ever see your great-uncle’s brother?” He didn’t look away from the mess on the floor, but he began to shake more viciously. “Well, even if there are no pictures at home, all you gotta do is look at your uncle! And imagine an extra finger!” I closed that eye, focusing back entirely on Stanley. “And maybe some brains!” He was hunched over, now, sweat lining his neck, his skin slightly green. Humans could be so fascinating.

“Well, we better move on! I’ve got another twin to murder!” I snapped my fingers and the body disappeared. Both Stanley and Dipper were still staring at the spot on the ground, still wet with fluids.

For fuck’s sake-

My mouth vanishing, my body going red. They needed to pay attention to ME. _ME!_

So. Guess the twin murder wasn’t going to be for show.

What can I say? I really like attention.

“I said: I’VE GOT ANOTHER TWIN TO MURDER!”

Stanley glanced up at that, his face wet with tears and snot and blood. Hmm. Good enough.

“Who should it be? The remainder twin? Or- hey!” I turned, speaking to his blank gaze. “Pine Tree, I know you’re jealous of Shooting Star’s relationship with Stanley! I’ll kill her! Maybe this’ll bring you and your uncle closer together!”

This snapped him out of his empty stare, and he choked as I brought my fingers together, taking a step forward, in front of his sister.

“No! No!” He was looking up at me, now, thank goodness. I paused; he went on, stumbling over the words.

“Kill- kill me, don’t- don’t kill- her, don’t- don’t kill-“

I almost wish I’d kept the mouth, so I could grin at him. “Pine Tree, so noble. But I really do like you, and, besides. I still need you as a puppet.”

“Please, p-please, I’ll- don’t kill Mabel, you-“

“How about your- what do you call him? Your grunkle? How about him, then?”

The kid went even paler, if that was possible. “No, no, I said- me, I’ll. The deal’s broken, we’ll make a new one, kill me, let them go-“

Behind me, Stanley roared. “Don’t you dare lay a hand on him, Bill! Let them go!”

I put a hand to where they would recognize a heart would go. If they even associated me with hearts at all. Which, after the body on the floor, with its lungs and heart out, they should, but. You never know.

“Such a touching scene. Everyone’s a lamb, no one’s gonna let the other walk off the cliff. So. I guess…” I flew back, putting them both in my line of vision. “I guess I’ll have to make the choice for you.”

Before either of them could say anything, before either of them could look at each other, I blinked.

And Stanley Pines gasped and began to choke, his lungs slowly working their way up through his throat.

He collapsed to the floor, forgetting he was now minus one arm, falling face first into his and his brother’s muck. It was hard to hold back the laughter as he rolled onto his back, his face purple, his mouth open, something dark blue and bulbous coming up (his lungs!).

Then, he stopped. Looked over at Dipper, who broke out of whatever shock he was in and ran towards Stanley, dropping to his knees next to the old man. Stanley reached up and grasped his hand, his face going blue, and looked at Dipper, nodding frantically, holding the boy’s hand to his chest. Dipper was sobbing, his face red, muttering something over and over and over.

I laughed. This wasn’t as violent as I liked, but it sure was emotional!

Let’s make it even more so.

I floated above them, looking down at Stanley. Neither looked at me, both staring at each other. Stanley was still holding Dipper’s hand, but he had pushed it away from his heart. How sweet. Didn’t want the kid to feel him die.

“Hey, Stanley!” I shouted. Neither looked up. Well, they will. “Don’t worry about dying! I’ll let the kid know what you’re wanting to say!”

Stanley looked up at me at that, but before his eyes could even widen, I snapped my fingers and watched him jerk. His chest cracked open, blood splattered across the floor, and something ripped out and leapt up to my hand.

Dipper followed it with his eyes and I held it out in front of me, growing a bit so it’d fit.

And, glancing down at the boy and sending him my trademark no-smile-grin, I stuck his uncle’s heart right where he would recognize a heart to be.

And then I moved it up to the center of my bowtie and left it there, because I know where a heart _should_ be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *coughs* been less of a while, huh.  
> also can you believe that i began this before stanford came and we all though stanley's name was stanford so for the past year i've been tagging stanley as stanford in this fic and i only noticed just now  
> i suck


	19. Chapter 19

Dipper yelled some words I don’t think even his twin could make out and scrambled backwards, away from the gory body in front of him.

“Look at that, Pine Tree! I can have feelings now!”

His back hit the wall and he crawled, jerky, towards the corner, his chest heaving.

I waited until he was there before beginning to speak. Pretty kind of me, huh?

“Well, might as well keep my promise!” I sank back, tossing one leg over the other, pulling out my cane. “He blames you!”

Dipper stared at me. I jabbed my cane at him. “That’s the truth, kid!”

“What?”

“Stanley! He thinks this is all your fault!”

Poor kid. His eyes immediately got all wet. He stood up quickly, then collapsed just as fast. Aw.

“You’re a liar,” he muttered under his breath, curling into himself.

“Not about this, Pine Tree!” He flinched. “He thinks you’re the reason your sister is dying! The reason he was dying! Know how scared he was before he went? It was cute, really-“

“SHUT UP!” He doesn’t look up. He’s shouting at the floor. “ _SHUT! UP!”_

“Oh-ho! Someone’s testy! Look, just because ol’ Stanley thinks you’re an idiot for making a deal-“

“Stop! Just- stop!”

There was a moment of silence. Not because he had shocked me into it or anything, of course. But because I wanted him to look at me.

He did, eventually.

“Listen, Pine Tree. I’m sure you know where this is going.”

He blinked, and something went out of his eyes.

“Yeah,” he mumbled. “I know.”

I did a quick dance, tapping my way towards him. Ha ha! Here we go, here we go, here we go! “So! What’s it gonna be? Save your sister, right?”

He wasn’t looking at me anymore, or at the floor. Instead staring at some point in space in front of him. Faintly, I heard: “And bring back Grunke Stan.”

Ha! Like I’d-

Well. If I was about to- oh, boy.

Could this have gone any better? Really, could it have?

“How’s about I throw his brother in, too?”

His head jerked up, his mouth open.

“I’ll let you see how generous I am! All of your family, back and safe!”

He nodded, his head bobbing up and down violently. “Yes! Yes- that’s what your end is!”

I almost brought my mouth back to grin at him, but didn’t. Instead, I stuck out my hand. Before he could grasp it, though, I jerked it away, wagging a finger at him.

“Ah, ah, ah! And your end?”

He stood again, this time staying on his feet. “Anything.”

Oh, wrong answer, kid.

“Okay! Then. All I ask is that you give me the journals!” He reached up again, but I floated back just a bit more. “Oh, and that you stay in the Mindscape permanently and let my use your body!”

He froze, his face taunt. How old was he? Ten? Eleven? Pretty impressive that he’s held out this long, actually.

I couldn’t wait to see how much longer he could hold out, how fast he’d burn with the world. Because he’d take the deal. I knew he would.

He looked over at his sister, and almost looked at his uncle’s body before letting out a sob and turning back to me. “Okay.”

The elation couldn’t get any higher than this.

“Fantastic! Excellent! Best confirmation I’ve heard since Kennedy let loose the atomic bomb!” A beat of silence. “Wait. Wrong universe. Ha! It’d’ve been pretty funny to see you and your family NEVER BORN though!”

He swallowed. “About the Journals.”

“You won’t even need to get it for me, Pine Tree! Just say I’ve got ownership and it’s mine!”

“I- I only have one.” His shoulders were high, like he expected me to hit him or something. Please. As if I’d use physical strength to burst his blood vessels.

“That’ll do! I just need the one!”

His frown deepened, and he looked over at his sister again. “Okay. Okay. So make them okay. And not. Traumatized or anything. And I’ll.” He choked on something. Bile, maybe. Though I hoped it was blood. I could make it blood, if it wasn’t-

He was still talking. Oops.

“And I’ll give you the journals and. And this body.”

I clapped my hands twice. “Sounds great! Let’s do it!”

Blue flames, extended hand. The whole nine-yards. Except this time, I was going to win, once and for all. And bringing back Sixer, just in time for the end of the world, was going to be great. Just perfect.

I dropped Pine Tree’s hand, raising my arms above my head. “Give me the Journal, kid, and your sister’ll come back! Then off I go in my new puppet and back the others come!”

Staring at Shooting Star, he wrapped his arms around himself. “The Journal is yours, Bill,” he said.

Finally. _Finally_!

The world around us dissolved, a gasp from Mabel’s bed and the floor echoing in the darkness around us, the only remainders of ever being in the hospital room.

“Set it up in the Dreamscape! Pretty cool, huh?”

And we faded into the Shack, no longer gray, two gasping bodies on the floor beside him and a third downstairs, at the base of that shoddy portal remake Stanley was working on. “Made it just as Stanley reached the hospital! Good thing I know a bit about stopping blood flow, or that sister of yours would have died on their way back to the Shack!”

Dipper’s eyes widened, realization hitting him, and I scrunched my eye up at him.   
“Ready to party, then?”

I flew at him, shoving my way through his chest, a feeling of sluggishness immediately taking over. But here I was. And a blink, two, and there, lo and behold, the Journal was, sitting so prettily on the floor right in front of me, blurry at first but coming into focus quickly enough. It really all worked out, didn’t it?

“Here we go!” I shouted, and, twisting around, spotted a book of Mystery Shack Matches on the tabletop.

Dipper was shouting something at the two on the floor, hovering over one and then the other, but I paid him no mind, striking the match- such a _human_ thing to do, so slow when it was so close- and held the flame to the pages.

Thirty odd years makes for some pretty flammable paper!

A minute, two, I don’t know. I stared at the flames. No one would interrupt me. Their bodies were being rebuilt. That’s kinda hard on the body, ironically.

The flames were scorching the rug around the Journal. Hey, maybe that’d catch, too!

And then.

And then.

There was nothing left to burn. It was gone, a smoking pile of ash. The carpet had caught, smoking around what used to be the Journal, tiny flames popping up.

Something around me lifted, some force dissipated.

And there I was, for the first time in so long, free- the last binding spell, written down, protected no more. Nothing but ash.

And Bill Cipher was now able to go out into the world.


End file.
